Forbidden
by CeceCox
Summary: How could two people so wrong for each other... be so right for each other's hearts? They thought love could only pull them closer. They were wrong. [a Chandler and Monica story: chapter thirteen up]
1. Chapter One: Head Over Heels

Disclaimer: None of the people from the show are mine. And no… Courteney Cox is not in the little box in my basement where all of my secret things are. Neither is Matthew Perry… **grins** 

**__**

Things to know: Chandler and Monica are already dating, **but nobody knows about them.** They're in high school…they are both seniors, but Monica is still a year younger. Ross and Joey are the same age as Chandler, Rachel and Phoebe are Monica's age. Joey and Chandler are friends, Monica, Rachel, and Phoebe are friends. Ross and Monica are obviously siblings. **Chandler's rich, Monica is average**. Chandler's family practically owns the town. **Monica is a Jew and Chandler is Christian (like in the show…) and their families are actually religious**. Monica is thin; she's never been fat. 

I stole Jenni's way of getting people's attention ;). 

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A/N: I hope you all give this series a try. It should be at least okay, and if you like it, review. And if you don't like it, review. It would mean the world to me, and it'll let me know if anyone is actually reading it. It'll also tell me whether to continue or delete it. Things may not be too clear in the beginning. Also, the initial 'conflict' will build up… so the beginning won't really be dramatic or anything ;). Oh, great… I'm sounding like my english teacher. But… yes, there _will _be drama, and yes you _will _hate me at times during this series. I also want to add that I'm going to try to update quicker than "If I Had," which took a few months to finish because of the delay in updating ;) **Also, I know that religion is a touchy subject. I'm sorry if I offend anyone in any way, because I don't mean to. I'm just… writing a story.** Anyway, enjoy! 

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Chapter One

The starry night sky shimmered above them, sparkling like a priceless jewel. Chandler held Monica closer as they looked up at the stars from his new, spacious car. Monica nuzzled her face to Chandler's neck and looked at his sweet, loving face. 

"Do you care?" she whispered to him. Chandler looked down at her and kissed her forehead. 

"No." He smiled and tightened his grip around her. Monica also smiled and leaned over to kiss his lips.

"Would you care if they knew?" she asked. Chandler put his forehead to hers and kissed the tip of her nose. 

"Never." 

Monica leaned her head on his shoulder and sat on his lap. Chandler squeezed her tight and sighed with content. 

"I don't want to go back to school tomorrow," he murmured, resting his chin on her head. He kissed her hair and stroked it gently, making Monica smile. "I never want this summer to end." Monica closed her eyes and savored the moment alone with Chandler, letting tonight be the night she'd clear her mind and soul of all troubles. 

"What do we do when they see us together?" Monica asked, looking up at him. Chandler smiled at her expression, feeling his heart tingle with delight just from the sight of her. 

"Do you really want to tell yet?" he asked, looking back up at the stars. Monica sighed. 

"I guess not." Monica closed her eyes and smiled. She slid her hands in his and squeezed it, sending Chandler goosebumps all over his body. Chandler picked up their hands and kissed her fingertips.

Monica still felt that surge of electricity run up her spine at his touch, she still felt the butterflies in her stomach when he was near her. "Chandler?" she whispered. 

"Yeah?" Chandler mumbled, closing his eyes. 

"We… we're going to stay together, right?" Chandler heard the fear in her voice and opened his eyes. He looked at her and smiled. 

"Always and forever, Mon. I'd never be stupid enough to let you go," he said, looking deep into her eyes. 

"Promise?" 

"Promise." Chandler closed his eyes again and stretched out his legs. Monica lay on top of him, her back to his chest. Chandler put their hands across Monica's stomach, their fingers still intertwined. "Why are you so worried, Mon?" 

Monica paused. "Everyone in life only finds a small amount of special people. A very, very small amount of special people in their entire life that make all of their worries disappear, and all of their joys pull through. I – I never thought I'd find that special person. But… I found you, Chandler. You're my special person." Chandler held Monica even closer and hugged her, feeling wet, hot tears prick his eyes. 

"I'd never leave you, Mon. I'll never hurt you… I promise you that. I don't want to give anyone else the chance to see how amazing you are." Monica smiled and turned towards him. 

"I should hope not," she joked and leaned in and kissed him. When the kiss ended, Monica ran her fingers through his hair playfully, while Chandler pulled Monica in for another sweet kiss. Then, Chandler put his hands over to her face. 

"Mon… I – I want you to know… whatever happens, I'll be there with you. I won't leave you, no matter what. You're my destiny, my forever." Chandler smiled and kissed her cheek. 

"Chandler, I love you so much," she whispered, hugging him. 

"I love you too," Chandler muttered, breathing down on Monica's face. They were centimeters apart. Without another word, Monica looked into his eyes and saw that he meant it. 

She meant it, too. 

* * *

As the alarm clock sounded, Chandler opened his eyes and groaned. Instantly his door flew open and a lean, slick woman walked in. 

"First day of school as a senior, son. Congratulations!" She went over to his large, pillow-covered bed and sat on the edge. "So, keep your look-out for all those girls. They'll be looking for you."

Chandler rolled his eyes, still lying down on the bed. 

"Just remember… find a beautiful girl that has good grades, is Christian, and is the same level as you, find a girl that's…"

"Perfect," Chandler sighed. "I know, Mom. You told me the same thing last year." Chandler silently smiled to himself. _And I already have that girl. _

Mrs. Bing smiled. "That's my boy. Now, I'll let you get ready for school… the limo will be ready-"

Chandler groaned even louder. "No, no limo, Mom! We go over this every year. I'm going to _walk_ to school, like a normal human." 

His mom nodded and left the room. Chandler shook his head and got up from his bed, heading for his dresser. Chandler looked through his clothes and picked out an outfit he knew Monica would love. Chandler smiled. 

__

Finally… I could smile for no reason at all. 

Chandler looked at the mirror in front of him and smiled wider. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at himself. 

__

I'm a changed man. 

* * *

Monica woke up to the sound of Ross running through the hall, screaming. Monica put her hands to her face and groaned. 

"Shut up!" she yelled. Monica groggily sat up from her soft, quilted bed and looked at the clock. 

__

5:57 AM 

Monica yawned and got out of bed, immediately heading for her dresser. The first thing she noticed was her hair, knotty, sticking out. Monica reached for her hairbrush and smiled. Chandler loved stroking her hair, or kissing it softly. He said it was one of his favorite physical features about her. Monica stopped brushing and put her finger by her hair, twirling it around. Now, whenever her hair was messy, she instantly brushed it, thinking Chandler would like that. He never asked her to do that; it was just an impulse. Monica put her brush down and looked at herself in the mirror. 

Last year, Monica pitied herself. She never thought she was beautiful, or even pretty. Sure, most guys followed their gaze when she passed them in the hall. But she still never felt like she was truly pretty. Until now, when she had Chandler. Chandler made her feel like someone. And he kept on telling her she was beautiful, and whatever Chandler said, Monica believed. There wasn't a time Chandler lied to her, and she saw no reason why he would. 

What they had was something good – no… _great_. Not many couples felt so much for each other, especially not high school teenagers. And because of that, Monica felt truly lucky for the first time in her life. Everyone said that she would fall in love once… but that wasn't true. Every time she saw Chandler, she fell in love all over again. 

"Monica, are you awake?" Ross's voice snapped Monica out of her thoughts. Monica sighed. 

"Yeah, I'm awake." Monica shook her head and went over to her dresser. Looking through, Monica found a small picture of her and Chandler hugging. By the position of Chandler's hand, you could tell Chandler took it. Monica laughed, remembering how much difficulty Chandler had taking a picture with one hand. Monica quickly put the picture back so that no one would see it and hid it under her clothes. Before she could close her dresser, Ross came tumbling into her room with one shoe on. 

"Come on, Mon… we're seniors today! We're the leaders of the school now!" 

Monica shook her head, rolling her eyes at her brother's excitement. "_We_ necessarily aren't the leaders," she replied, motioned between herself and Ross. Ross shrugged, looking Mon up and down. 

"You're not dressed yet," he stated simply. Monica nodded. 

"Keen observation, Einstein." She closed her dresser drawer and looked Ross up and down the same way he had. She put one hand to her hip and grinned slyly. "Black pants and a striped sweater? Ross, you look like Freddy Kruger from that slasher flick." 

Ross looked down at his clothes, his cheeks flaring. "I – I do not." 

"Do you even _know _who Freddy is?" 

Ross looked away from his sister and out her window. "Sure I do." 

Monica narrowed her eyes and pointed at him mockingly. "Who is he, Ross?" Monica laughed as Ross stuttered, trying to ease his way out of the situation. She shook her head and lead him to her door. "You _really _need to get out more," she muttered, pushing him out the door and closing it in his face. She walked away from the door and fell onto her bed, yawning, stretching her arms. 

"This is going to be a _long _day."

* * * 

The hallways of Lincoln High buzzed with the rush and excitement of seeing friends for the first time in months, seeing who changed, what changed, hearing the latest gossip, meeting new people. People pushed passed each other, trying to find their ways to the unfamiliar classes to meet the unfamiliar teachers. Lockers shut closed, books clasped shut. 

Within the teen-aged crowd, Monica and Rachel walked over to the auditorium, preparing themselves for the "welcome back to Lincoln High, we missed you but you won't be missed after this year" speech seniors got each year. They held their new, heavy load of schoolbooks in their hands, trying to keep from bumping into anyone. 

"Anything new happen this summer?" Rachel asked, turning her head towards Monica after a few minutes of silence. Monica shrugged. 

"I saw you a whole lot, Rach. You know all of the latest information," she replied, trying to keep from lying to her best friend. Rachel sighed, shifting the books to a new position. 

"You'd think they'd cut us some slack for our last year in this place they call high school," Rachel moaned, rolling her eyes. Monica smiled, shaking her head. 

"It's not so-" 

Monica's breath caught in her throat as she saw Chandler walk through the hall. When he came to pass her, he brushed his arm across Monica's, sending chills to every part of her body. She smiled, melted, forgetting her friend was next to her. 

"Monica?" Rachel asked, snapping her fingers in front of Monica's face. "You okay there?" 

Monica shook her head, her cheeks suddenly red. "I'm fine." She looked away from Rachel, trying to keep her from reading her eyes. Rachel let out a cunning smile, her eyes dancing. 

"You like him." 

Monica looked towards Rachel, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Like who?" 

Rachel's smile turned into a grin. "You know who. Chandler Bing!" 

"Chandler Bing? What kind of name is that?" she asked, trying to play dumb. Inside, her heart was smiling, her soul was skipping. 

"You'd never stand a chance for him," Rachel said to her, tilting her books so they wouldn't fall. Monica's eyes narrowed, her lips twitching. 

"And why is that?" she asked coolly, trying to keep any possible emotion out of her voice. Rachel let a small laugh escape her lips. 

"He's filthy rich, that's why. His family wants only the perfect girl for him." 

Monica looked away from Rachel, her head turning back towards Chandler's direction. "I-is that right?" 

* * * 

"This year is going to be a tough year for you seniors. Don't think this year in high school is all about parties and 'ruling the school,'" the principal's voice boomed through the auditorium. Monica sighed, kicking her feet up to the back of the seat in front of her. Ross turned around, sending her a death glare. She shrugged, putting her hand to her mouth as she yawned. The man's voice continued, but Monica did anything but listen to it. 

"Is he ever going to stop?" she whispered to Rachel next to her. Rachel shrugged, her eyes glued to her nails as she was filing them. 

"Doesn't seem likely." 

Monica closed her eyes for a second, then quickly opened them as she felt something bump into her head. She looked down at her lap and saw a paper airplane with handwriting written across it. _"Monica Gellar… please open." _She opened the figure and smiled when she saw printed writing written across. 

__

If this is anyone but Monica Gellar, do not read. Well, you could, but it will do you absolutely no good. If my aim proved me right, and this actually is Monica, then you know my writing. Just wanted to say **I love you. **I hope that right now you're smiling, because just seeing you made me smile today. In the hallway, I brushed against your arm just to feel you. And it did feel wonderful. I can't wait 'till this dreadful speech is over. Want to meet me this evening at our spot? I want to see you again. I want to kiss your lips again. I want to stroke your hair again. Look for me in this sea of people, and nod your head for yes, or shake your head for no. 

Love,

You know who this is! 

Monica smiled when she finished reading the note and folded the paper once more, putting it into her pocket. She looked around the rows of seats, and finally spotted Chandler's expectant face looking towards her. She smiled, nodding her head. He smiled back, giving her the thumbs up. She rolled her eyes, and he stuck his tongue out at her. She silently laughed and stuck hers back at him, her heart melting at the sight of him. Chandler shrugged, so Monica blew him a kiss. He pretended to catch it and to stuff it in his mouth. 

"Mon?" Rachel interrupted, causing Monica to break eye contact with Chandler. She looked at her friends confused face. 

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" 

"I'm okay," Monica replied, smiling to herself. 

__

Just madly, head-over-heels, meltingly, wonderfully in love. 

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To Be Continued… ?

Ok, so what did you think? Already I can see I'm going to have a blast writing this, but I see no point in posting anymore chapters if no one wants to read it. Did you like it? Do you want me to continue? Let me know! Review!


	2. Chapter Two: Recognizing Reality

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A/N:_ Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! It means a lot that you like the story J I hope I live up to your expectations for this series! Here's the second chapter. I'm not gonna try to drag out this series, but I also don't want to rush it. So just bear with me, kay? It'll lead up, I promise. Oh… and if you don't mind… in your reviews (if you review. Please review!), can you just tell me how soon you want them to be found out? I'm gonna try and listen to the readers' opinions and use them for this story! Do you want all the mushy stuff longer, or do you want the real part of the plot to begin? And… yet another thing I may want to add… **thanks to Becca for explaining a few things about the Jewish religion! I am doing my research, but I still don't know everything since I don't practice the religion. So, if I get something wrong anywhere in this series about it, please tell me! I'd appreciate it, and I wouldn't get mad ;) And if I offend anyone in ANY way, tell me, and I'll change whatever offends you so that it doesn't. I'm not trying to favor anyone, offend anyone, or pick on anyone… I don't like doing that. So please… I don't want anyone hurt! And a note on the story… their parents are very, very religious. Very. **_

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Chapter Two

A hushed voice came from outside her window, causing Monica to sit up abruptly in her bed. She rubbed her eyes, blearily checking her digital clock. 

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2:03 AM

Monica yawned, stretching her arms and legs, still sitting on her bed. When she heard the whisper once more, she sighed and threw the heavy, cotton-filled quilt to the side. She stood up and walked over to her large window, peering through her blinds. 

When she saw Chandler, her eyes instantly lit up. Quickly, she opened her window, ignoring the wind that blew to her face the instant it was open. Chandler smiled upon seeing Monica's face, melting her heart. 

"Chandler! What are you doing here so late?" she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. Chandler shook his head and began climbing up the fire escape, one hand holding onto the bars, the other holding onto a bag. When he reached her window, she stepped aside, letting Chandler in. He closed the window behind him and quickly gave Monica a short kiss. 

"I come bearing gifts!" he announced, trying to use the most regal voice he could muster. Monica rolled her eyes, and Chandler set down the bag he was holding. "No, do not roll your eyes. These gifts are sent straight from the king himself, sent only to the most beautiful woman in all of America." 

"_Only _America?" Monica kidded, moving in closer to Chandler, a mocking face of anger written across her. Chandler stepped closer, pretending panic. 

"In all of the world!" he replied, throwing his arms out. Monica smiled, moving as close to Chandler as she could without touching him. 

"_That _deserves a kiss," she said, standing on her tiptoes, gently brushing her lips against his. She smiled and stepped away, Chandler with his eyes still closed. When he opened them, he grinned slyly. 

"In all of the universe!" he said, stepping closer to Monica. She laughed, putting her hand to his cheek. 

"All _that _says is that I'm more beautiful than aliens." She walked away from Chandler and walked over to her door, locking it just in case anyone decided to check up on her. She then walked over to her bed and sat on it, patting the side next to her. "Sit." 

"Is that an order?" 

Monica gave one nod, trying to keep her face as straight as possible. "From you're supreme commander," she replied, using a sturdy, deep voice. Chandler picked up the bag and saluted Monica. 

"Sir, yes sir!" 

Monica suddenly narrowed her eyes. "_Sir?_"

Chandler saluted once more. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" 

Monica smiled and put her feet up on her bed, hugging her knees. "Better. Come and shower me with gifts, now," she said, smiling. Chandler laughed, walking over to the bed and sitting down on it. He opened the bag, but covered it so Monica couldn't peek inside. He took out a small notepad with flowers on the cover, handing it over to Monica. "What's this?" she asked, looking from the book to Chandler. Chandler smiled. 

"This," he said, motioning to the notebook, "is a notebook. A journal, to be more exact." He smiled at Monica's confused look and took another notebook from his bag that was just a plain blue. "And this is my journal," he continued, holding up his book. 

"What do we need journals for?" 

Chandler's smile widened. "It's to record our every move. Ok, so maybe not our _every _move, but…" Chandler stopped, seeing the far-off look on Monica's face. "Ok, so here's how it goes," he said, trying to explain it in another way. "This book," he said, holding up his plain blue book, "is really for you. And the book you're holding is really for me." He stopped, setting the notebook down. "Whenever we're not together, we can write in these books. Whether we just can't see each other or we're on vacation, we write in our journals. We say what we're doing, or what we're feeling, or _anything._ Then, every two weeks, or when either us come from vacation, we exchange our books and read them for a day. Then we take the original notebooks back and write again." Chandler smiled as Monica slowly nodded. 

"So this is a way for us not to miss anything on each other's lives? To get even closer, right?" Monica asked, looked up at Chandler, her gaze locking with Chandler's. Chandler nodded. 

"Exactly." 

"Sounds great," Monica decided, a smile appearing on her face. She took her book and carefully tucked it beside her. Chandler put up his index finger. 

"Wait! That's not all!" 

"Goody!" Monica replied, "Treats!" 

Chandler laughed, beginning to dig into his bag. He took out a single thorn-less rose from the bag and smiled, handing it over to Monica. 

"This is… a rose for a rose," he whispered, handing it to Monica. "But it's a thorn-less rose. See, a regular rose may have a beautiful blossom, but a thorny layer. This rose has both a beautiful blossom… and a thorn-less layer. Just like you, Mon." He smiled. "You're the perfect person, so I decided to get you the perfect rose." Monica smiled gently at Chandler, her heart overwhelmed with emotions. 

"Chandler…"

"No, no speaking until the final gift is given to you." 

Suddenly, he took out a small golden locket with jewels outlining it. In the center, in script writing, was written the word "_Monica._" When Monica saw the necklace, she quickly shook her head. 

"We promised, no expensive things! Just because you're rich doesn't mean you should-" 

Chandler put his finger to her lips, "shushing" her. She stopped talking, so Chandler put the necklace on Monica's neck, clasping the back shut. "I _wanted _to get this for you." He smiled, and Monica looked down at it, running her fingers over the smooth surface. Finally, she smiled, looking into Chandler's eyes. 

"Thank you," she whispered, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. She moved closer to Chandler, leaning her head on his shoulder. When she opened the heart-shaped necklace, she saw two pictures: one of her and Chandler hugging, and one of just Chandler. 

"So I'll be with you forever, no matter what happens," he whispered into her ear, kissing her hair. "I'll be wrapping myself around you, no matter what." He paused, looking down to Monica's face. "And know… that I'll _love _you no matter what." 

Suddenly, tears sprung to Monica's eyes, and she hastily wiped them away. She quickly hugged Chandler, burying her face in his shoulders. She lifted her head to Chandler, their faces inches apart. "I'll keep it… no matter what." 

* * *

"Ok, what the _hell _does nihility mean?"

Monica let a small laugh escape her lips as Chandler threw down his pen, angered with frustration. Monica shook her head, looking at him from across the room. She watched as the teacher walked over to him, shaking her head. 

"Chandler, absolutely _no _swearing in my class, first of all." She looked down at him, her brown hair falling from her shoulders. "And second of all… why don't you use a certain book full of definitions? What was it called…" The teacher put her finger to her chin, pretending to think. 

Chandler stood from his desk and walked over to the dictionaries as the rest of the class giggled, expecting no less from Chandler Bing. "Thanks, Ms. Unger," he mumbled, taking one from the shelf and walking back to his seat. 

"Only 'cause you're my favorite," she sighed, turning back towards the blackboard. She began to write new directions, so Chandler sighed and crumpled up his current paper. Without standing up, he shot it into the trashcan and picked up his dictionary. He flipped through it a few minutes and finally shot up from his desk, still holding the book. 

"Nihility. Noun. Nonexistence; nothingness," he read the definition. Everyone looked towards him, clapping. Chandler bowed, and Ms. Unger smiled. 

"Very good. Now sit." Chandler sat, so the teacher continued writing as the rest of the class went back to work. 

At the other end of the room, Monica smiled, her thoughts of Chandler clouding her work. A million thoughts entered her mind, and she had difficulty focusing on one. 

__

How can he manage to be so cute all of the time?

I'm so lucky I found him.

I wonder when I'm going to see him alone again.

God, I love him so much.

Her heart was enlightened with all of her thoughts and their answers, but there was one that lingered that was yet unanswered. 

__

How long is it going to be before he finds someone just as perfect as he is?

* * *

Monica gaped at her mother, shocked. She shook her head, standing up from the dining room table. 

"So you mean to tell me that if I start dating someone that isn't Jewish… you'd what? Kill me?"

Judy Gellar narrowed her eyes at her daughter. She pointed at her, so Monica quickly sat down. "I wouldn't _kill _you, for heaven's sake! I'd…" She paused, putting her finger to her lips, thinking. "I don't know _what _I'd do. Let me just tell you now, I will _not _allow it." Judy began to continue eating her dinner, but Monica shook her head wildly. 

"Mom, you can't _tell _me who to date!" she cried, throwing her fork to the table. Ross slowly put his head up, looking from across the table to Monica. 

"A-actually, it's _whom._" 

Monica glared at Ross, so he continued to pick at his food, keeping one ear on the conversation his sister and mother were having. Monica looked back at her mom, her eyes burning. "It's _my _life. You can't tell me how to live it! _I _decide who I want to date, _I _decide what I do. Not you!" She watched Ross lift his head again. "Shut up, Ross!" she yelled before he could correct her grammar. 

Judy looked back at her daughter. "You will not talk to your brother like that, Monica!" She paused, then set her fork down. "And with what you're telling me and how you're reacting, you'd think you're already dating a Muslim or Christian or something!" Monica's eyes darted nervously from around the room, but Judy was oblivious. "Monica, there are thousands of fine Jewish boys! It's so much better to date and marry a Jewish man than a… Christian! Jewish guys are far more respectful, responsible, caring-"

"A person's religion has _nothing _to do with what kind of person they are!" Monica cut off her mother, her eyes back to burning. "You're so oblivious to the world around you Mom! It's what the person _believes_ that makes them Jewish, not how they _act_! Look at yourself, Ma. You pretend like you're in love with God, then you pass these judgements!" Monica sat up from the table, throwing the napkin she was holding onto her plate. She began to walk out of the door when her mother began to say something. 

"Sit back down here, Monica! You will not speak to me like that! And you need to understand _my _prospective! If you marry anyone but someone that's Jewish, you'll have different beliefs! If he were Christian, you'd have to have Christmas. You'd have to sacrifice a lot, Monica! Do you want that?"

"If I were truly in love with him, I wouldn't care. And neither should you. Jeez, why are you making this so _difficult_?" Monica began to open the door, but stopped before she walked out. "And you know what? After what _you _did years ago, I'd be lucky if _anyone _would want to marry me." And then she was out the door. 

* * *

Chandler rolled his eyes, sipping his glass of water. He leaned back in his chair, his fork still in his hand. Nora Bing looked at her son from across the long, marble table, her eyes telling him not to push it. He shrugged when he caught her eye, and looked back at the typical blonde, big-busted, blue-eyed girl sitting next to him. The _Christian_ girl sitting next to him. 

"Tell me about yourself," he said, trying to keep from yawning. _That is… if you haven't already told me every single detail about you and your BMW, _he thought bitterly. The girl began to speak, but Chandler's mind was shut off from her words. Only one thought occupied his head at that moment: _When is she going to **leave**? _Before he could say another word, or think another word, the large, grandfather clock struck eight, and the girl excused herself. Chandler happily showed her to the door, closing it behind her. When he was sure the door was closed, he let out an exasperated sigh. "_Finally_!"

Nora shook her head, walking closer to Chandler. "She wasn't _that _bad." Chandler stared stupidly at his mother, his mouth hanging open. 

"Mom, she spent two hours talking about her 'precious' car!" he replied, throwing his hands up into the air. "She was the worst match you could _ever _try to give me!" He shook his head, walking over to the living room, Nora right behind him. He flopped onto their leather couch as his mom sat in the armchair. "And, by the way, I can _not _believe you gave me a blind date. Especially without consulting me first!" 

"That's because I _knew _you'd say no!"

"Oh, that's so much better," he retorted, kicking up his heels onto the armrest, laying down flat on the couch. Nora sighed. 

"Chandler, I was just trying to find you a nice, Christian girl that was the same level as you!" 

"Ma, I'll find my _own _girl, okay?" 

"I'm just afraid you'll find someone… different than you." Nora laid her head onto the back of the chair and rubbed her forehead, while Chandler shot up from his position on the couch. 

"What do you mean… _different_?" he replied, almost yelling. He threw his feet off of the couch and looked straight into Nora's eyes. 

"You know perfectly what I mean. See, girls that aren't on the same level in… money… as you may use you for all that you have. And girls that aren't Christian don't share the same beliefs as you!" 

Chandler shook his head, his eyes lost. "You mean I can't date _anyone _that isn't Christian or… rich?" he asked, bewildered. Nora nodded her head. "Ok, so… do you mind if I give you a hypothetical question?"

Nora looked hesitant, but still replied, "Sure." 

Chandler shifted his weight on the couch, his eyes darting to anything visible. "So… just because they're not the same as me… I wouldn't be able to date… say, at the top of my head, Phoebe Buffay, or Monica Gellar?" 

"First off, I have _no _idea who Phoebe Buffay is. And as for Monica Gellar… isn't that the cheap little… whore I've heard about from off the streets? The one with… _Judy _as her mother?" Nora shook her head quickly. "No, no I would _never _let you date her! Not only is she Jewish and lives in a cheap house, but her family is _horrific!_ And she's just the same!" Nora shuddered just at the thought of her son and 'a cheap little whore' together. 

Chandler clenched his fists together, biting his lip to keep from shouting at his mother until his throat was sore. He felt tears about to prick his eyes, but hid them. 

__

Monica? Horrific? She's an angel, no less, Chandler thought to himself, hate for his mother bubbling up inside of him. _She's **my **angel. _

Chandler shook his head, lying back down on the sofa, trying to erase his mother's words from his mind. But her _words _weren't exactly the problem. The problem was… now Chandler wasn't sure if they'd _ever _reveal their relationship. 

And it terrified him. 

**__**

To Be Continued…

Ok, how was it? Sorry if it was too short, too boring… anything. But please, please, please review to let me know what you think! Hate it, love it? It doesn't matter to me; I want your reviews either way! Let me know what you think! Please? And wasn't this chapter posted fast? Yes, I am _very _proud of myself ;) Okay… so do you want me to continue? And… once again, thank you for all of the wonderful reviews for the previous chapter! I hope to get the same response for this one :D


	3. Chapter Three: Deteriorating Perfection

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A/N: _Yup, Chapter Three is here! Thanks a bunch for all of the reviews, each and every one means so much to me! Notice how these chapters are coming up sooner than "If I Had"? That's cause of the reviews! Well, that and I know what I'm gonna write ;) Keep them coming, and I'll keep the quick reviews coming! But, if I don't update soon, it's cause I just started… the "c" word :p Yup, the big C! Extra points to anyone who can figure out what that means! :p And, once again, while we're not on the subject, if I offend anyone in any way, please tell me and I'll change whatever it is so that it doesn't offend you! And… yeah, **I know Judy isn't as bad on the show as I'm going to make her be, but it's my story and I wanna make her horrible! :p** _

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Chapter Three

"S-sorry," Monica mumbled, slowly backing away as her mother took another swig of her drink. "I d-didn't mean it."

"You _always _mean it!" Judy snapped, heading closer towards her. Monica backed away, terrified. 

"No I don't! I – I just blurt things out," she replied, her eyes burning with fear. This happened frequently, but her mother never looked so enraged, so _furious_. And the fact that she'd just had four bottles of beer didn't help, either. Judy walked closer to Monica, leaving Monica no place to go since the wall was behind her. 

"I hate you," she whispered into Monica's ear, the smell of beer reeking her breath. "I hate that you're my child, I hate that I know you, I hate that you're alive." 

Suddenly, Judy raised her hand and slapped Monica hard across the face. The impact left Monica falling to the floor, tears in her eyes. Judy snickered and threw the empty bottle to Monica's arm, sending shattered glass into her skin. Then, she walked up to her room and closed the door behind her.

"S-she's just drunk," Monica whispered to herself, pain written across her, tears beginning to fall. She slowly, carefully, stood up and walked over to the kitchen, holding up her arm to make sure the glass didn't go any deeper. She sat down at the table weakly, began to carefully pick the glass out of her skin, and flinched as the first piece came loose and fell to the floor. She continued the pattern of taking out the glass and then flinching seven more times until all the pieces were gone from her arm. She sighed and rubbed her arm, now full of cuts. "She's just drunk." When she heard a grunt come from the kitchen door, Monica's eyes quickly shot up. When she saw Ross standing there, she quickly tried to wipe her tears from her face. "What do you want?" Monica asked, trying to sound as angered as she could. 

"She hit you again," he stated simply, his feet rooted to his spot. "I heard her yelling."

Monica sighed and stood from the table. She walked passed Ross and into the living room. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, flopping down on the couch. Ross walked over to her and sat beside her. 

"Don't give me that, Monica, you know I'm smarter than that." He looked her over, frowning. "There was yelling, you have cuts all over your right arm, and your cheek is incredibly swollen. It's happened before, and Mom just had a whole lot of beer."

"Whatever, Ross, I'm not in the mood." 

"What did you do?" he asked, ignoring her silent request to leave the subject alone. Monica looked at Ross, hurt. 

"You mean you think I _did _something to her? That I said something? And even if I did, it'd be automatically okay for her to punch me and throw her bottle of beer at my arm?" she replied, looking away from her brother to try and hide the constant flow of tears coming. 

"I – I didn't say that…"

"Oh please, Ross, you're just trying to take her side. I was the wrong one in the situation, happy? I took out a gun and threatened to shoot her, so she was just defending herself." Monica stood from the couch and walked over to the staircase, walking up the stairs. She walked over to her room and shut the door hard behind her. 

"Don't slam the door!" she heard her mom's slurred voice yell from two shut doors. Monica sighed and fell onto her bed, cradling her cut arm, which was still bleeding. 

"Some way to spend a Friday night," she mumbled to herself. She stood from her bed and walked over to her closet, pulling out a First Aid kit, since her mom hid one in her room for just herself and Ross. She pulled out a roll of bandage and began to slowly wrap it around her right arm, making the layers as thin as possible. When she was finished, she hid the kit back in the closet and walked back over to her bed, sitting on top of the soft covers. 

She knew that when the kids at her school saw the bandage wrapped around her, they'd begin to shoot off rumors. Most of them would probably be _"She began to knock someone out, but they got a hit on her, too" _or _"She tried to stab her arm for people to feel sorry for her." _

It seemed strange to Monica that _she _was the center of rumors for years. _What's so fascinating about talking about **my **life? _she'd always think to herself. However, although she didn't know why she was _still _the center of rumors, she did know how it started: her mom. Her mom and all of the hideous things she did, and the one truly horrible thing she did so many years ago, before Monica was even born. But, for almost 18 years, the entire _town _knew what she did. So, Monica grew up knowing too. And so did all of the other children in the town growing up. And so would the children after that, and after that; the Gellar name was dragged in the mud forever. And because of that, Monica only had two friends. Because of that, Chandler was the only boy she'd ever kissed. Because of that, dirty glances were shot her way every day in school. And, if it weren't for Chandler, Monica was sure she'd try to kill herself. 

Monica slowly laid her head down on her pillow and stared at the ceiling above her. Her mother ruined everything for her, and she knew it; she knew it and she cherished it. Her mother hit her whenever possible, her mother gave her threats, her mother kept reminding Monica how hideous she was. 

If Monica had a father, she knew things would be so much different. He'd hug her when her mother hit her, he'd compliment her when her mother fired insults at her. But she didn't have a father, and she never would; she never even _knew _him. Sure, she knew that his name was Jack, he was Jewish, and most of the town adored him, but she didn't know how he'd be to her, or what he'd do to or for her. She'd never be able to see him face-to-face, only through pictures. 

Monica sighed and closed her eyes, trying to shut her mind off for the night. But she couldn't; thoughts of her hateful mother and probably loving father filled her mind, sending her off to only a fitful sleep. 

And bubbling up inside of her, hate for her mother grew each and every minute.

* * *

Monica walked along the sidewalk in the dark, cold night, and hugged herself to attempt to keep warm. When she finally saw Chandler's massive house, she quickly walked around the stone driveway and to the side of the building. There, she picked up the large ladder hidden in the grass and began to climb it. When she reached the window to Chandler's room, she gently knocked against the glass. The window quickly opened as Chandler helped her in. He smiled into the dark, seeing only her figure. 

"I thought you'd never come," he whispered, kissing her lips gently. Monica hugged him when the kiss ended. 

"I'm here, aren't I?" 

"That you are," Chandler smiled, burying his face in her sweater. When they pulled apart, Chandler walked over to his bedside lamp and turned on the switch. Seeing her face in the light made his smile widen. They walked over to his bed as Chandler scooted to the headboard and Monica climbed on top of his lap. 

"I haven't seen you in two whole days," Monica said, resting her head on his chest, her eyes closing. "I missed you." 

"Really? Two _whole _days?" Chandler joked, taking Monica's hands. He felt her cold fingers and covered his hand over hers, attempting to keep her warm. "God, you're freezing, Mon!" 

"It's cold outside," she mumbled, remaining in her spot. Chandler smiled. 

"That's right… I have heat, I forgot." 

Monica rolled her eyes and sat up so she could look towards Chandler. She reached her hand out towards his cheek and rubbed it. "Keep me warm, then," she replied, grinning. Chandler raised his eyebrows. 

"Oh _really?_"

"Hug me, you sick pervert!"

Chandler laughed and pulled Monica towards him, wrapping his arms around her. "Exactly what I had in mind!"

"Oh, please, you have a gutter mind."

Chandler hugged Monica tighter. "Yeah, you're right." Monica nodded against his chest. 

"I'm always right." 

Chandler held onto Monica with arm and rubbed her cheek with the other. But when he felt her wince, he quickly stopped. Monica sat up, looking at Chandler confused. "What?" she asked. 

"Why'd you just wince, did I hurt you?" he asked, panicked. Monica quickly shook her head. 

"No, no you didn't! Nothing's wrong!" she replied, a bit too quickly. 

Chandler looked at Monica skeptically. "Are you sure?" he asked, concerned. Monica nodded. 

"Positive." 

Chandler nodded, then stroked her cheek once more. Once again, Monica winced. It wasn't until then that Chandler noticed how swollen it looked. He frowned. "Monica, what happened to your chin? Why is it so swollen?" 

"Nothing happened to my chin." When she saw Chandler's look after her answer, she knew she wasn't going to get out of it so easily. "I – I hit my head on my bedside table today when shutting off the alarm clock." 

"Monica, you're lying. We promised each other we'd never lie, and I can tell something's wrong. Tell me just _what _is wrong." He sighed, looking at her with hurt eyes. "Please." 

Monica took a deep, shaky breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them once more, Chandler was looking at her expectantly. "My mom…" She paused, looking away from Chandler. "My mom hits me," she whispered in a scratchy voice. "She – she punched me… and…" Monica rolled up the sleeve to her right arm, revealing the bandage. "She threw her bottle of beer at me." Upon seeing Chandler's shocked face, she quickly shook her head. "B-but don't think that that's bad! No, she's done worse-" Monica suddenly stopped talking, realizing she was making it worse. She sighed. "I didn't want you to worry, so I never told you."

"Mon," he simply whispered, pulling her into another hug. "Oh, Mon." He took in a deep breath. "I'll keep you safe, no matter what. I – promise." 

* * *

"What is love? Love is pure, love is good. Love is beautiful, love is hateful. Love can complete you, and love can destroy you." 

Mrs. Unger smiled, looking broadly across the room full of teenage students. She walked up and down the room, then walked back up to the front. "So, that is how I define love," she said, still smiling. "How do _you _define love?" She looked around the room, but no one volunteered. "Ms. Gellar, tell me what you think love is."

Everyone's head turned toward Monica as she slid in her seat. 

"How would _she _know?" she heard someone snicker. Mrs. Unger shot a glance at the person that said it. 

"Mr. Tribbiani, if you would like to comment, raise your hand and _you _tell me what love is." Joey looked away, so Mrs. Unger looked back at Monica. "What's love?" 

Monica looked across the room to Chandler, who was smiling at her. She smiled back, and looked to the teacher. She took a deep breath, feeling all eyes on her. "Love is indescribable," she whispered, thinking of how she felt with Chandler, ignoring everyone else. "There's no way of putting true love into words. You'd have to feel it to believe it. There's not one word that can describe how incredible love feels… not one word in any dictionary. But I can say that love is what keeps people going when they want to give up, it's what makes people smile when they want to break down and cry." Monica looked away from all of the gaping faces that were staring at her and stared straight into Chandler's eyes. "Love is rare, but when you do finally find it, hold onto it, because it's worth more than gold and diamonds." 

As everyone stared at Monica shocked, Mrs. Unger smiled. "Better than my words," she replied. 

Someone from the back of the room sneered. "Yeah, and how would you know, Monica? Did you steal those words from one of the books you bury yourself into?" 

Monica looked back to see who said that. It was Joey again. "When you finally find love, you'll know," she simple stated, then sat back to face the front of the room. 

Mrs. Unger walked around the room and smiled. "Very well put, Monica. Tell me, though… have you been in love?" 

Monica looked away from everyone, staring at the wall in front of her. "Is it important?" she replied. The teacher looked at Monica and nodded. 

"Just curious as to how your comment is so heart-felt. I'm pretty sure that no one can say those words and not feel love themselves."

"No, I haven't _been _in love." She looked at Chandler, who was looking at the floor. "I _am _in love." 

"With who? You're dead dad? Cause I'm pretty sure you don't love your mom, and most _definitely _sure you've never dated anyone before. I mean, with what your mom-"

"Joey! Principal's office, _now_!" Mrs. Unger yelled, pointing her finger towards the door. But Monica didn't seem to notice how Joey slowly began to walk out of the room, terrified. She was focusing on the sting that his words left her. 

"Hey, Joey," she said, startling everyone including the teacher. Joey turned around. Monica looked him straight in the eye. "That's right, my dad _is _dead, and that's right, my mom _is _cruel. But how is that my fault? I wasn't even _born _when it all happened! So I was hoping to live my life fully. But it's people like _you _who make that impossible."

Joey glared at Monica. "Good." Then he walked out of the door and slammed it behind him, causing everything hung on the wall to shake. Everyone looked at Monica, expecting to see tears in her eyes. Instead, she looked up at her teacher. 

"So let's get on with 'Romeo and Juliet,'" she mumbled, opening her book. Mrs. Unger looked at Monica and walked over to her desk. She slowly kneeled down beside her. 

"Monica, are you okay, dear?" she whispered for just Monica to hear. Monica nodded her head. 

"Why shouldn't I be?" 

"Joey can be very vicious at times, don't let his words get to you."

"All he did was remind me of my life. How can that be vicious?" Monica slammed her book closed. "How can that hurt _me_? My dad is dead, I've never known or seen him, my mom's a drunk and hates me, my brother ignores me, and every single person in this town thinks that I'm a whore and horrible person because of my mom. I'll never be able to live a normal life, and no one will ever look passed my mom." She stood from her desk, gathering all of her books. "My life is _perfect_." 

Then the bell rang, and everyone ran from the room as Monica slowly walked out.

Chandler was the only one left in the room, the only one with tears in his eyes. 

**__**

To Be Continued…

I'm sorry if this chapter disappointed you! It kind of introduced the "secondary plot" in the story. Most of the story _will _be about Chandler and Monica and how they're… * whispers * _forbidden_. But I just wanted this plot to… I don't know. It does have to do with the main plot, though. And next chapter will be more Chandler and Monica-ish. Please, please, please tell me if you liked it and if you want me to continue! And thanks for all of the reviews for the last chapter, I hope to have the same feedback :D 

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	4. Chapter Four: End of Act One

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A/N: _Once again, thank you for all of the wonderful reviews! I love each and every one of you who even bother to read this J And if these chapters don't come up as soon as I'd like them to… well, I'm trying, but I have so much work, and serious… issues… I'm trying to work out. But I'm going to continue posting regularly, only 'cause I love ya guys ;) Please continue reviewing! **Also, this chapter is dedicated to Becca, because she's one of the very few people who cares and understands me. And she sure did help a whole lot when I needed it. Thanks, Becca J **_

Warning: Mild violence in this chapter. Also, some swearing. Nothing huge or anything. But anyone younger than 13… well, you shouldn't be reading this anyway cause it's rated PG-13!

Chapter Four

Choosing to ignore the silent assignment given to the class, Monica looked out the window to the right of her and sighed. Yellow, red, and brown leaves fell from the trees, and fall was apparent in the skies. Wind howled against the thin glass of the windows, and Monica felt a chill creep up her spine. 

She hated the fall. The fall always reminded her of death, and she wasn't too open to killing and dying. It was as if God was telling them, "Okay, so you had a beautiful spring and summer, now I'm going to take it all away." Why not just keep the flowers and the trees, why not keep the warm sunshine and the white clouds? Fall was the time everything turned brown and crisp, gray and dark. And the worst part was that Monica had no control over what was happening. She couldn't just say_, "Hey, you, trees, stay green. And you, flowers, keep blooming." _All she could do was watch it happen right before her eyes. Monica looked away from the window and shut her eyes tight. 

She couldn't just say, _"Hey, you, Mom, don't do that. Hey, you, Dad, don't say that!" _She couldn't just yell, at the top of her lungs, _"Hey, you, town, don't say that! Hey, you, Mom, stop doing that!" _She had to watch, or endure, the events and their consequences. She couldn't stop what happened over 18 years ago, or stop what was going on in the present. She had to take it all in and continue to live. Well, maybe not _live_. She had to continue to be alive, anyway. But she did have another option, an option that would be very welcome to her if Chandler wasn't in her life. But Chandler was, so it wasn't an option anymore. 

Her life was an endless cycle of fall, trees getting stripped of their leaves, the sky's blue replaced with gray. 

"Monica?" 

Monica had to snap out of her thoughts, open her eyes. She looked up, where Mr. Lanzer, their algebra teacher, stood with his hands on his hips. She slightly smiled. "Um, yes?" 

"You're not sleeping, are you?" 

Monica quickly shook her head. "No, not sleeping, no! I – I guess I just drifted off into my thoughts without realizing it," she replied.

"Well, why don't you drift back _in_ and do the assignment given to you?"

Monica nodded, so Mr. Lanzer walked back to his desk and continued to grade papers. But Monica merely pretended to be writing, her thoughts drifting her off once more. 

* * *

It rained for a week, stopping only at night, when no one was awake, when no one would know. Like a worker who sneaks a break when no one's looking. The constant gloom and clouds and drum of raindrops dampened everyone's moods. Children looked out their windows, waiting, hoping, for sun, while teenagers locked themselves in their rooms, listening to the radio and talking on the phone, ignoring the dire consequences if the lightning striking outside hit a wire. Parents hung themselves low, keeping away from their children and trying to brighten their own days. 

Then there came the Gellar household. 

The two teenagers inside the small, whitewashed house tried to dodge by their mom and her unusually dampened mood. One got away. The other had to just stand there and let her mother stand there and yell at her. Had to endure the pain given when slapped across the cheekbone. Had no choice but to double over in pain when punched hard in the stomach. Had to listen to the laughter echo in her ears. Had to smell the stench of too much alcohol in her mother's breath. 

Then, that very rare moment when she did get away from the torture, she called the one person who would care. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice concerned. 

"Nothing," she answered, not wanting him to worry. 

"Monica, I know something's wrong, so stop trying to avoid telling me. You're stuck now." 

"I can't get away." 

"From the house?" 

"From everything."

"Are you okay? It sounds like you're having trouble breathing."

And she was having trouble breathing, a lot of trouble. Numerous blows in the stomach caused her to gasp for breath, while the worries stored up in her made it hurt to breathe. "No, I'm fine." 

He didn't sound like he believed her, but he let the subject go, knowing how touchy she was around it. So instead, he asked, "What are you doing today?" 

"I can't do anything," she instantly replied. She sighed and slowly laid her head down on her bed, careful not to let her wounded arm touch anything hard, trying to keep the pain in her stomach bearable. Tears from both pain and fear were apparent in her eyes, and she was glad Chandler couldn't see her at that moment. She looked, in her opinion, _pathetic_. 

"I want to see you," he told her, as Monica buried her face in her pillow. 

"I don't want you to see me," she replied in a muffled voice. 

There was a pause. "Monica?" His voice was barely a whisper. 

"Yeah?" 

"Did… your mom hit you again?"

Monica shut her eyes tight. She didn't answer. Instead, she listened to the rain outside, the constant rhythm of "tut-tuttering" onto her roof. She listened to a sudden roll of thunder, and couldn't help but notice how perfectly the weather outside matched her life at the moment. Her silence answered his question just as much as her saying it loud and clear. 

"Mon, please, I want to help in any way possible. Let me-"

"There's nothing anyone can do," she muttered. "I'm used to it, and soon you will be, too." 

"I'll _never _be used to you getting hurt in any way. I can't stand it." 

"You're going to have to." 

"Mon, come on, just-"

Monica didn't want to hear it. So she hung up the phone. 

* * *

When he entered through the window, his clothes were dripping wet. His hair drooped down from the moisture, and small portions of rain still dripped down his face. For a second or two he just stood there, looking at Monica, seeing her bloodshot eyes, her bandaged arm, her bruised face, how she was curled up so the pain wouldn't been too immense. He stood there and stared straight into her eyes. Through his eyes, he told her how sorry he was for her, how much he wished he could do something. And Monica's eyes told him she wished he could do something, too. 

"What are you doing here?" she managed to murmur through her heavy breathing. Chandler finally moved from his position by the window and walked over to her. 

"I wanted to see if you were okay." 

"I don't want you to see me like this." 

Before Chandler could answer, a bolt of lighting ripped through the sky. Instantly, the lights went out and everything went dark. Through the obscurity, Monica let tears fall down her face freely. 

"Well, right now I can't see you at _all_," Chandler quipped. Monica smiled through the darkness. Tears continued to stream. 

"You don't need to be here." Her voice quivered, and Chandler could hear. 

"I want to." He walked over to her bed and sat down on it, forgetting he was drenched. Monica didn't comment, or even care, so he reached his hand out to try and find Monica's face. When he was finally successful, he touched her bruise, and Monica winced. "Okay, this isn't going to be easy, us not being able to see and all."

"Nothing's ever easy." 

Chandler sighed. "I need to know you're okay." 

"I'm never okay. No one is ever okay. Nothing is ever okay." 

There was silence for a second time.

"I can help you."

"I wish you could."

And silence a third time. 

"Just tell me what I could do."

"Promise me you'll never leave me. That's all you can do right now." 

"That's an easy promise." 

"And promise, when they find out, that you won't…" 

"I won't." 

Then the lights flickered back on, and he saw her teary face, how completely terrified she was of what was to come one day from now, one week from now, years from now. He looked at her ruefully, and slowly, carefully, pulled her into a hug. She didn't object. Instead, she took her petite hands and placed them around Chandler's body. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. 

"As long as you're with me, Chandler, I'll be okay," she said, her face still buried. They pulled apart, and Chandler smiled that warming smile of his, the one reserved just for Monica. 

"Ditto." 

Monica averted her eyes to Chandler's arms. When Monica looked down at his hands, she finally realized there was something that his hands wrapped around. She looked at his face, and smiled. "What're you holding?" 

Chandler looked down at his own hands, slightly startled from the sudden question. He shrugged, and handed over a book to her. She looked at it, confused. "Our journals. I wrote mine this past week, when I didn't see you at all. Besides school, but that doesn't count, cause we didn't talk." 

Monica nodded and smiled. She opened the book, but Chandler quickly closed it. 

"You can't look at it until I'm gone," he said. 

"Whatever," Monica replied, a small smile still plastered on her face. "Um, I would have written in yours, but I kind of… forgot about it." 

"That is not a problem." He smiled, and gently kissed Monica's lips. "Just don't let it happen again." 

"Yes, sir." 

Chandler beamed. "I loverryou." 

Monica laughed. "I _loverr _you, too." 

* * *

__

October 8

To my love Monica, 

Hey, babe! J I miss you more than anything. I haven't talked to you in what seems like ages. I know it's just been days, but whatever. I'm sure you're not writing in yours, though, because you probably forgot. Don't I know you just too well? 

Right now, I'm in my room, waiting for you to call. Call, Monica! I want to talk to you; I miss that wonderful, angel-type voice of yours. I'm guessing right now you're waiting for me to call. But here I am, writing in a diary. And yeah, I know, it was my idea. 

Mon, I'm feeling so many different things right now. I want to tell the town about us. I really, really do. But how will they react, Mon? We're so… different. Not in a bad way, mind you. In a wonderful way. But I'm just afraid they won't see it in the wonderful way that I do. What will they do? I don't want to be the center of rumors for months, and I know you don't, either. I don't want other people ruining what we have. It's been going great, in my opinion, and I don't want that to change. I'm afraid that they'll break us apart. And yeah, love overcomes all obstacles. But… it's hard. I like the paradise we're in, I don't want that to change even a little bit. Then comes the question, what if they're cool with it? Then we're worrying for nothing. But there are three people that will not like the idea of us 100%… our moms, and my dad. Granted, my dad's running a gay show in Vegas, but he still won't be happy about it! Man, I don't like this… conflict we're in. 

But we'll tell them, I promise. We can get through anything, right? Cause we love each other. 

All of my love, now and forever, 

The Chan Chan Man 

* * *

__

October 10

To my one and only, Chandler,

I decided to write in this now, before I forget about it. Hello! I miss you, even though I saw you yesterday. It's still raining, I'm sick of the sound. Ever wonder why it hasn't flooded yet? Maybe tomorrow there'll be sun. In the words of Annie, "The sun will come out… tomorrow!" I just watched that musical for the 100th time today. 

Alas, it's finally Friday tomorrow! I'm looking forward to seeing you Saturday. I miss hanging out at our spot, it's the only time we can actually **be **together. We'd better bring something for the rain, though, cause right now I'm thinking it's never going to stop. Remember that story "All Summer In a Day"? When the kids lived on Venus, and it rained 24/7? I'd never be able to live there, never in a million years. I hate the rain! (Sorry I'm so pessimistic right now, I hear my mom yelling into the phone). 

About what you said in the journal about telling. Well, you really scared me. I never thought that they'd turn on us for being together. Well, them meaning the town, not my mom. I knew she would. But… Chandler, now I'm terrified. I want to tell, but I don't want to make your life hell. What **if **they don't respond well? What if they all back-stab us for being… happy, in love? 

It doesn't matter. I finally decided that. Just now. Because we love each other more than life itself, and that's enough. I know it is. It always is. So I say we let our love be our shield. 

All of my mind, heart, and soul, 

Your Little Harmonica

* * *

On that Friday morning, something incredible happened to that small town; the sun came out. Suddenly, everyone's moods suddenly became brighter, and no one was dampened anymore. Children ran playfully to school, playing tag along the way, while teens smiled and greeted their friends joyously. Adults drove to work, letting the cars in front of them pass, just because. 

Funny, how no one fully appreciates something until it's been gone for a while. 

* * * 

__

He hated these moments. 

He just stood there, silent, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. He couldn't do anything about it, because they didn't know anything. He couldn't fight for her, because they didn't know. They didn't know, they don't know, maybe they'll never know. He had to nod along, pretending to laugh and smile at the cruel jokes that came out of his best friend's lips. And Chandler reminded himself, each time, that he didn't know. He didn't know, that was his excuse. 

It happened often, each time ripping Chandler apart more and more. But they were never as bad as what was going on before him at that instant. He never heard such inferior words escape his best friend, never actually thought he saw flames in Joey's eyes. But this time flames were burning up in there. And Chandler led himself to wonder, what did Monica do that was so horrible? Why wouldn't anyone get to know her before they judged her? 

"She's a bitch," Joey muttered, in the center of the circle of guys that Chandler thought were his friends. _They don't know_. The guys laughed, nodding along, agreeing. "She's a horny bitch, the town's whore!" They laughed again. Chandler forced a smile, and it physically hurt him, just as well as emotionally. 

"And why does she want all this attention?" someone called from the back of the group. Joey smiled. 

"Help me, help me, my mother's a drunk and she hits me!" he said, mimicking Monica's voice. "Help me, my daddy is dead, and I can't do anything about it! I have an oh-so-terrible life, so I think the world should center around _me_. Everyone hates me! I think the universe should care only about _me_!" Snickers and laughs were heard everywhere around him. "Help me, my mother dragged me down in the mud! Now I need some sexin' up! Who wants to fuck me, step in line!" Howls of laughter echoed in his ears. "Somebody, please, fuck me!" More laughter.

Chandler's head was red by now, and tears were about to come. He took his fists out of his pockets and clenched them tighter. Joey said something else, but Chandler was too furious to hear. 

"I'm going to die a horny bitch!" Joey yelled, his voice still mocking, at the top of his lungs. More and more laughter, cruel laughter, insane laughter. 

Suddenly, Chandler's fist flew across Joey's jaw, and he fell to the ground. Chandler stepped over Joey, looking down at him. His eyes were raged. "Stop it, stop it, _stop it_!" The laughter stopped. 

Joey slowly stood up, shocked, and looked at Chandler. He protectively rubbed his jaw with his hand, trying to ease the pain. "What was that for? You can agree that she's a b-"

His fist hit Joey's jaw a second time, and he fell to the floor once more. Chandler stood on top of Joey, so he couldn't get up. Joey looked up at Chandler, hurt and panic mixed in his eyes. He backed away, still on the ground. 

"What the hell is wrong with _you_?" Joey gasped out. He quickly stood up before Chandler could stop him. He was inches away from Chandler, his eyes narrowed. Chandler's eyes matched Joey's. 

"You don't even know her," he whispered, his voice hard and cold. Joey's expression was blank for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, his eyes showed realization. Then they hardened once more. 

"I know _what_ she is," Joey whispered coldly. 

Chandler's clenched fist hit Joey in the stomach, causing him to bend over. Chandler took Joey's arms and pulled them behind his back, causing Joey to gasp. "Take it _back_!" 

Joey spun around and freed himself from Chandler's grip. He took his own fist and hit Chandler hard across the face. "She's a whore, even she knows it." 

On the ground from the impact, Chandler swung his legs, hitting Joey's ankles and causing him to fall hard on the concrete below. "She's the most wonderful person I've known," Chandler said in a hushed voice, still cold. 

"She makes me _sick_."

Abruptly, both of them stood from the ground and began clawing at each other. The guys surrounding them simply gaped in both shock and horror as the two best friends punched each other in the faces, stomachs, and arms, kicked each other in the shins, knees, and legs. Blood spurt from their mouths as cuts gashed across their skin. They continued to whisper hateful words to each other, continued to knock each other around. 

Until Joey hit Chandler right near the heart, incredibly forcefully, and everything around him went black. 

And then the clouds hovered above them burst, and it began to rain once more. 

**__**

To Be Continued…

Ah, finally finished with this chapter! I read this over, and it seems really… dark. Anyway, please, please, please review to tell me if you want me to continue or not. And I'm really sorry if this chapter was horrible. If everyone hated it, I'll rewrite it so it's… I don't know, better. Again, please review, whether it's to tell me you loved it or that you hated it. And Becca… I'll give you extra points if you can find our little 'word' in this story! ;) And thanks for all the reviews for the other chapter, guys, they're really appreciated. Keep 'em coming, please!


	5. Chapter Five: Laid Bare

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A/N: _I know, I know… this took forever to post! My life is just so incredibly hectic, from friends to the big C. I can barely find time to sit down! Well, anyway… I apologize for the delay. I tried writing this as soon as I could, really. And if half of this chapter doesn't make sense… it's because I'm half-asleep. Oh, and thank you all for the wonderful reviews for the last chapter! They mean a lot, they really do. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner… if I could. Maybe in less than a month! ;) _

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Chapter Five

It worried her when Chandler didn't come to school the next day. They talked on the phone two days before, and he sounded fine. She saw him in school yesterday, and he looked fine. No signs of a fever or cold. But she didn't see him or talk to him after school, and that's what worried her the most.

There was talk about a fight after school yesterday floating around the sea of students, but as usual, Monica didn't believe it. The teens of Lincoln High always tried to mix up things, especially when it meant getting a few of their peers into trouble. But then she heard that Chandler was part of it, and the fact that he was absent made sense. It made sense, but it didn't ease her a bit. 

Hard, cold looks came by her way more than usual that day, too. She figured it was because of a stupid rumor someone brewed up. Never did she think that the rumor would actually be true this time. 

* * *

Lunch was the only period Monica shared with Rachel. Although Rachel sat with her cheerleading squad almost every day, whenever Monica requested to sit with her, Rachel would ditch the preps and sit with her best friend at a far corner, where no one would bother to glance. Monica didn't usually bother to ask Rachel, though, since she knew she was an embarrassment to Lincoln High's prom queen. But this day, her and Rachel sat at the same table Monica sat alone in every day, quietly whispering. Rachel nibbled at her food as Monica merely stared at her own, too twisted on the insides to want to eat anything. She looked at Rachel, and Rachel stopped chewing her food when she noticed her friend's mixed look. Monica simply sighed and put her right elbow up on the table, resting her cheek on her palm. Her face was pale, here eyes afraid and dark, while her breathing was heavy and forced. She stared at the empty space on the table, oblivious to Rachel's stare. 

****

"Mon?" Rachel inquired softly, reaching her hand out towards her friend's. Monica looked up from her vacant gaze and into Rachel's concerned look. "Is there a reason that you wanted to have lunch together?" She paused. "To… maybe to tell me something?" 

"K-kind of. I have two… two things to ask you," she delicately replied, almost afraid. Rachel smiled. 

****

"That's what friends are for." 

Monica forced a smile back. "Um… well… you're kind of the gossip queen, aren't you?" she asked, smiling. Rachel let out a small chuckle. 

"Sure, you could say that."

****

"Well… you know that rumor… about the fight?"

****

"Yeah…" 

Monica took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Is it true?" 

Rachel looked at Monica and pursed her lips. "You mean… did Chandler and Joey really get into a fight?" 

Monica shot her eyes open. "Joey?" 

"Yeah… well, it's true. They got into this huge fight… knocked each other silly." Rachel darted her eyes, question and confusion shown. "Um… Mon? That – that kind of leads _me _to a question…"

"Are they okay?" Monica asked, ignoring her friend's question without realizing it. Worry burst through her, fear that Chandler was hurt made her ache. "Why aren't they here today? Are they hurt badly?" She rambled her questions, startling Rachel. 

"Monica, calm down!" Rachel practically yelled. She shrugged off the few glances she received from people passing by and looked straight into Monica's eyes. Monica stopped asking questions and sighed. "Monica… you… well, Chandler's pretty bruised up and cut up. Joey knocked him unconscious, then attacked him when he was lying down. Joey was going insane. 'Cause… well, Chandler kind of said something that really spooked him…" 

"Wh-what… what made them so mad at each other?" she whispered, her heart dropping. She was glad he wasn't _too _hurt, but Monica was sure he just lost one of his best friends. Monica was clueless when Rachel stared her down, suspiciously. 

"You mean you don't know?" was Rachel's answer. Monica shook her head and shrugged. 

"About what?"

"Monica… Chandler… he was defending…" 

Monica looked at Rachel. "Defending what?"

"_You_," she whispered. 

Monica stared at Rachel, not sure if she heard her right. She shook her head. "What… what do you mean he defended me?" 

"Joey… he was… kind of bad-mouthing you. He was saying really nasty things about you… which I'm sure doesn't surprise you, cause, well he could be a real jerk sometimes. And… Chandler got angry, balled up his fists, and hit Joey square in the jaw. Joey was really shocked. From all he knew, Chandler could care less about you. But… that's not what Chandler said."

Monica gaped at her friend, the news not quite sinking in yet. She looked around the cafeteria and noticed groups whispering, then looking at her, then whispering again. Some shook their heads, others had wide eyes, eyes of shock. Some laughed. She looked around, confused. What did this all mean? Why? 

And then it hit her. 

Tears sprang to her eyes when she realized that her one fear came true. Chandler's life could be ruined. Rachel was shocked when she saw the tears in Monica's eyes, but Monica didn't care what Rachel thought or saw right then. 

She only had one thought on her mind: 

__

They knew. 

* * *

"Please don't tell Mom." 

"I… I won't." 

Monica smiled half-heartedly at her brother. "Thanks. I – I just can't deal with her knowing… not now, not yet. Maybe not ever. I mean, the town… I think right now, they're enough. I don't want-"

"Monica!" Ross cut her off. Monica stopped and looked at him apologetically.

"Um, sorry." She shook her head and continued to walk, one strap of her loaded book-bag dangling to the side, the other hanging over her slumped shoulder. She took her hand and rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the small pain that was building up. Other students stared as Monica walked away, whispering as she passed them up. Monica tried to ignore them and their harsh words as she also tried to gather all of her thoughts in her head. The entire day, she had to endure stares, glances, whispers, rumors, jokes, comments. She tried to ignore them, but it was hard for her. Hard for her to accept that this was the beginning of many hard, long days ahead of her. The entire school knew by now, and most of them believed it… although none of them knew why. News traveled fast in that school. Especially news about Monica Gellar, Judy's daughter. 

"Hey, Monica, how much are you paying him?" a football jock called out to her as she and Ross passed him up. The group formed around him laughed as Monica and Ross merely continued to walk.

They quickened their pace, trying to leave school grounds as quickly as possible, trying to get as far away from the students that the school held. 

* * *

"I'm going for a walk," Monica said to Ross quietly after she dumped her book-bag onto her bed. She walked out of the house before he could reply and silently shut the door behind her. Instantly, her feet lead her to the nearby street in which Chandler's house stood. She climbed up the ladder and knocked her fist on the glass when she saw the shutters of Chandler's room window were closed. When Chandler didn't come to open the window, she knocked the glass harder. 

"Chandler… it's me," she muttered, now pounding on the glass. "I know you're most likely in there, please let me in." 

There was a pause, but the window remained closed. She sighed. "If you don't open the window this instant, it means you don't love me!" Monica threatened. 

Instantly, the window opened, revealing a reluctant, bruised Chandler. Monica gasped when she saw him, and tears sprang to her eyes. 

"Come on, you made me open the window, now you have to come in," Chandler said, smiling. He helped her climb through the opening and placed her feet on the ground. Monica shook her head and looked up at Chandler with hurt, teary eyes. Chandler took his hand and ran his fingers through her hair, then kissed her forehead. Monica shook her head once more. 

"Why?" she managed through her scratchy throat. "Why would you put yourself… through so much… pain?" 

"Believe me, Mon, it hurt ten times worse when he said those nasty things about you. I just – I wanted to protect you," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. 

Suddenly, Monica opened her arms and tightly hugged Chandler, her head buried in his shoulder, her eyes flooding with tears. Chandler returned the hug, resting his chin on her head, closing his eyes. Chandler rocked Monica back and forth, trying to ease the pain he knew she felt, trying to calm the desperate tears that fell from her face and soaked into his shirt. Both of their hearts beat rapidly, their minds caught up with confusion, their souls still filled with hopeless love. They continued rocking with each other, Monica silently crying, Chandler gripping Monica tighter every second, shutting his eyes tighter every moment. In each other's arms they stayed until Monica slowly stopped the rocking, but still held onto him. They kept their position, this time still, their grips loosing just a bit. 

"What now?" Monica murmured, the side of her head resting on Chandler's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. There was a moment's pause. 

"What else?" He stopped and looked down at Monica, a small smile on his face. She looked up at him with her glassy, red eyes, waiting for his answer. They let go of each other but remained in their spots, and Chandler took his hand and put it on Monica's cheek. "We let our love be our shield." 

Monica smiled up at Chandler as he took his finger and wiped her eyes, drying away her tears. "Of course, why didn't I think of that?" 

Their smiles widened, and Chandler leaned down and gave Monica a sweet kiss. When they parted, Monica fell into Chandler's arms once more. "Remember, Mon," he whispered to her, "the love we have… it's bigger than the anger they have."

Without saying another word, they stood in the middle of his room, holding onto each other, holding onto the hope that would get them through. 

**__**

To Be Continued…

I'm really sorry for two things… one, that this chapter is short, and two, that it took so long to post. I'm really going to try to update a lot sooner for the following chapters, but it's been really hectic. Also, the chapters are gonna get longer… this chapter I just kinda wanted Monica's reaction and Chandler's reaction to Monica's reaction… if that makes sense at all :p Please review to tell me what you think… your reviews are always appreciated. Also, any questions, comments, or suggestions are greatly appreciated… you could either put them in your reviews or e-mail me. And thank you for my other chapter's reviews!


	6. Chapter Six: Armor of Love

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A/N: _Aren't you proud? It's up, it's up! ;) Thank you all for my last chapter's reviews, I'm surprised you guys didn't forget about lil 'ol me. Either way, the feedback was all very much appreciated, I thank each and every one of you. I'm glad you guys are liking it so far, it's you guys that keeps me going. And I'd like to dedicate this chapter (yes, another dedication…) to Becca, cause I really miss her. It's probably my fault we haven't talked in a while… maybe this dedication will make it up? ;) Keep reading, guys! And let me know what you think!_

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Chapter Six 

They tightly gripped each other's hands, their backpacks strapped over their shoulders. They slowly walked to school, only about two blocks left before they had to step onto its grounds. As they took each step, their grips tightened, and the knot in Monica's chest twisted with worry. 

"Chandler…" she started off nervously, glancing towards him. 

"Just stick together, and we'll be fine," he told her reassuringly. He lifted her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. "We're Monica and Chandler, remember?" 

Monica smiled. "We sure are. The best, the very best there is. Our love is stronger, that's right. You're not going to…" Monica suddenly stopped and faced Chandler, who stopped with her. She looked up at him as tears began to form. "Chandler, what if you're dragged down into the pit I fell into? They- they can do that. They have this odd power, they can turn your life into hell. I don't want you to…" 

Chandler quickly put his finger to her lips. He looked at her and noticed her face was completely pale, all of the color drained from her face, and saw she was trembling. He quickly took her into his arms, hugging her body protectively. "Shh," he murmured, "Calm down, Mon, it'll be okay. They can't drag me down. I won't let them." He kissed the top of her head. "As long as you're with me, I'm A-okay." 

Monica looked up at Chandler, tears still falling. "You don't know what it's like, Chandler. You- you don't know." 

Chandler shook his head. "No, you're right, I don't. But I know… well I can _imagine _how hard everything is on you. We're going to go through everything together, whether they drag me down or not." He took his finger and dried her tears. "We're a pair, remember? We don't match any other way."

Monica's lips curved into a small smile. "Promise we won't get miss-matched in any way?" 

"Promise." They let go of each other and Chandler took her hand. "Now, come on, we'd better go before we're late to school. We don't want a lecture from the principle." 

They began walking once more. Monica glanced at Chandler and smiled. "I love you, Chandler. So much." 

Chandler looked at Monica, his smile mirroring hers. "Ditto."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, their shield strong, their love tremendous, their hopes high.

No one could get past Chandler and Monica. That's what they thought, what their hearts had engraved on their minds.

If the world weren't so harsh, maybe they would be able to go on throughout life fine, with no troubles, because of these beliefs. 

But the world was harsh, from the rocky crust right down to the burning core. 

* * *

"Okay, stop reading for a moment. It's time for our discussion." 

The majority of the class groaned, setting down their books, preparing themselves for the "discussion" they were about to have. Ms. Unger walked around the room, making sure each book was closed, then walked up to the front of the room. "I know you don't like these," she continued, "but I'm in charge, and I say, let's discuss!" She scanned the room. "So, who would like to tell me what they think of how Romeo and Juliet are reacting?" There were no volunteers, so she pointed to Phoebe. "Phoebe Buffay, what are your insights?" 

Phoebe paused and looked across the room at Monica, then at Chandler. She smiled when she caught Monica's eye. "I think they're being brave. Heroic." 

"Yeah? Well I say they're idiots," Joey interjected, scoffing at Phoebe's response. "They're the world's worst couple." He looked over at Monica and glared. "_Juliet _doesn't deserve anything, much less love. She should burn alive. And _Romeo _is wasting his time on someone who isn't worth it. He's the idiot for being with her. He should keep who he had." 

"Some people can't choose who they fall in love with," Monica whispered softly. All eyes turned on her, and Joey snorted. 

"They're not in love. They're screwing, is all. They're just wasting their time, ruining their own lives. You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Mon?"

"They're not. They're… they're in love, so deep they can't get out." Her voice was soft, vulnerable. 

"They're blind."

Tears were about to form in her eyes. "No. No. Love overcomes all obstacles." Monica shook her head, not knowing one more thing to say that wouldn't make her burst into tears.

"Is that true, is it really? Well everyone knows how the story ends. If love overcomes all obstacles, Monica, then why is it that love _kills _them?" 

"They still end up together…"

"Come on, don't be stupid, Monica. You're just way too hopeful, you expect too much from life. Juliet killed them both, didn't she? Cause she was so half-witted, expecting too much. Don't-" 

"Joey, shut up, you're the one being the idiot here!" Chandler suddenly burst out, slamming his hand on his desk. He turned around to face Joey in the back of the room, his eyes raging. "Leave Monica the hell alone, she never did anything to you. You're just too pathetic to realize that she's a good person. So you could just shut up and leave Monica's life alone, cause we all know you're not talking about Romeo and Juliet. You worry about _you_, we'll worry about _us_."

For a moment, the room was quiet, in shock. The students gaped at Chandler, who officially "confirmed" the rumor, shocked he would fall for the town's "imbecile," or even stand up for her. Ms. Unger stood in front of the room in silence for a while, not fully comprehending what the students were saying. 

"Go to hell, Bing," Joey hissed, breaking the silence. Suddenly, the teacher pointed to both Chandler and Joey. 

"Chandler and Joey, principle's office, _now_," she ordered, her voice hard. "I've heard enough! It's only first period, and you two are already are at each other's throats! Show respect to your peers!" Both guys stood from their seat, gathering their books, heading out the door without a word. Monica shook her head. 

"Ms. Unger, Chandler didn't-"

"Quiet, Monica." 

So, she fell silent as Chandler slowly walked out of the room, giving her a small smile as their eyes met as if telling her it was okay. Monica smiled back, then looked down. 

Yeah, the world could be cruel at times. 

* * *

They met at the vacant auditorium at their shared free period, wrapping each other's arms tightly around each other the minute they entered. Tears fell from both of their faces as they tightened their embrace, trying to find comfort in each other. 

"I guess this is harder than I thought," Chandler whispered into Monica's ear, his grasp still around Monica. "But it's not impossible, not yet." 

"Chandler, they're – they're doing so much," Monica managed to say in between sobs. "So cruel. And this is just the first day. It's barely begun." 

Chandler kissed the top of Monica's head and began to rock them back and forth, as they did the night before. It seemed to calm both of them a bit, but still didn't take their worries away. "I know, babe, I know. But we have a shield, remember?" 

"Sure we do… but they have a master sword so sharp, it could split right between us and separate us." She paused. "Together, they have the power, Chandler." She shook her head against his chest. "They have the power to do anything. Hate is always worse than love… so much more bitter, which leads it to be harder, too. Hardness overcomes softness. We're in love, Chandler, we're vulnerable. They're hateful and strong. They have the advantage." More tears fell faster and harder from her bright blue eyes, which were now clouded with hurt. "Chandler, what do we do?" 

"Keep the love, Mon. It's all we can do." He sighed and let go of Monica, who soon followed the lead. "Mon, like I said before, we can get through this. We're strong enough, I know we are. The love I feel for you… it's amazing. I'm never letting go of it, not matter what the consequences." He leaned down and kissed her lips gently. They parted, and Monica smiled somewhat sadly. 

"You're right. I-I'm sorry for being so pessimistic. It's just… I mean, sure it's hard when I have to go through it. I just don't want you to have to go through the pain, too," Monica murmured quietly. "You don't deserve pain. Especially not for my sake."

"Hey, it's for _my _sake, too," he reassured her. "And I'd die for you, so it really doesn't matter whose sake it's for. Right now, I'm just glad I have you."

Monica smiled. "And I sure am very grateful to have you." She stood up on her tiptoes and gently kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you more than you can imagine, Chandler. And I'm sure now that a little pain is worth everything you're giving me." Both of their smiles deepened, and Monica kissed Chandler's lips lovingly. They both instantly melted into the kiss, for a moment forgetting where they were, why they were upset. For a moment, pain wasn't real to them. 

Then the kiss ended, and they were all too aware of where they were, what was happening… and worst of all, what they were feeling. 

Fear. 

* * *

It's been days. Days of torture, days of ignoring glares and rude comments, days of tears, days of pain. Tough days for Monica and Chandler. 

People said that what others thought didn't matter. And it was true. But it was what others said, what others did… that's what made it so hard for them. They were branded as nobody's, yet everyone seemed to want to make their lives just a little bit worse.

* * * 

When Chandler approached Monica's locker, cold glares were shot at them, and the couple did their best to ignore it. Chandler wrapped his arms around Monica from behind, as if to protect her, and kissed her cheek softly. 

"Finally time to go home," he whispered for only her to hear. She nodded her head, gathering her books with one hand as her other hand held Chandler's arm. When her books were finally set neatly in her backpack and locker, she closed her locker and twisted the lock. She strapped the bag over her shoulders and took Chandler's hand, gripping it tightly. 

"Finally." 

They began to walk through the hallway, and it seemed as if people cleared the path to let them get through. It was like they wanted to get as far away from the couple as possible, as if they had some contagious disease. Their grips tightened as they walked on, stares following them all the way. Everyone seemed to stop just to look at them, to sneer at them, to cuss at them, to yell at them. Both Monica and Chandler acted as if they were unaffected by the scene, but inside both of them were having difficulty to merely stand. They walked closer to each other, faster, trying to get away from the sinister peers that surrounded them. 

Finally, they reached outside the building and bounded their way off school grounds, away from every teen that snarled at them or yelled at them or hated them. When the school was out of sight, both abruptly stopped and began to slowly walk once more. A single tear fell from Monica's face. 

"Why us?" she suddenly inquired, her voice low and hurt. "What makes us so different from every other couple?" 

Chandler stopped walking, as did Monica. He looked at her for a moment, then took his thumb and dried the tear that fell. "We love each other truly, that's what's different." 

There was a pause. "I'm sorry I'm ruining your life, Chandler," she whispered, looking down. Chandler looked at Monica, surprised. He quickly shook his head. 

"Oh, no, Mon, no!" he quickly replied. "Mon, you're not ruining my life. There's no way you could." 

"Chandler… it's because of me. _I'm _what's making us different from every other couple." A few stray tears fell from her face yet again. 

"Monica… how could you be ruining my life, if you _are _my life?" Monica merely stared at the ground without a word, so Chandler pulled her into a hug. "You are my life, Mon," he whispered, holding her closer. 

And somehow, that seemed like enough to pull both of them through. 

**__**

To Be Continued…

I know, such a quick update! I'm quite proud of myself ;) I'm sorry if this chapter was anything bad… I'm trying, really. Please tell me if you liked it or not… review! And thanks for the other reviews… once again, they mean a whole lot to me. Good day :)

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	7. Chapter Seven: End of Act Two

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A/N: _Thank you all for the reviews, you guys are great :) I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations, and I hope it's not entirely crap. Um… I have no idea what else to say, except the rest of the story is for Becca, cause she's just way too great to be true. Loverr you Becca! And also… all you faithful readers, it's also for you, cause it's you guys that keep me going. Love ya all. Continue… _

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Chapter Seven 

Monica tiredly took off the locket Chandler gave to her and yawned. She set it down on her dresser, not too worried about anyone finding it; no one ever walked into her room unannounced. She shook her head and fell onto her bed, fatigue instantly sweeping over her. She slowly closed her eyes. 

Two weeks passed since they first found out, and things were worse than ever. No one seemed to be getting used to the idea of Chandler and Monica, and no one seemed too hurried in accepting them. The students of Lincoln High were causing both Monica and Chandler tears each and every night. No matter how many times Monica watched movies that explained it didn't matter what others thought and did, she couldn't make herself believe that. It _did _matter what the rest of the town thought and did; together, they had the control to break down Chandler and Monica. And they couldn't do anything to stop it, all they could do was hold onto each other. 

The one thing Monica _was_ thankful for was that her mother didn't know yet. Since her mom spent most of her time either at work, alone in a cubicle, or shut up at home, drinking beer and whiskey, news didn't travel fast to her. So, the rumors, gossip, and stories about Chandler and Monica were invisible to her. Monica was glad for that. That, and she had the one person that could get her through. 

* * *

He instantly shot up into a sitting position when his alarm clock sounded, startled at the sudden screeching sound. He shook his head, a chain of yawn and stretches following. He slowly stood from his bed and walked across his room to his closet, where he opened the doors and sighed. 

It was a mess. Everything was a mess. What started as a simple crush turned into a tremendous _mess_. She talked to him, he talked back, they hung out, they kissed, they fell in love, the town found out, and it all turned into one painful mess. The sting of the words and actions stung both of them, and violence was sure to follow. And he didn't regret it, he wouldn't change it for anything.

Because he had her, the person he was looking for all his life. And usually when you get something good, something bad happens after. But the bad part is soon over, and the wonderful part kicks back in. It never fails. And although this was a huge mess, Monica was worth every tear, every sigh, every crude comment that was shot his way. He didn't care what they were doing, at least not as much as someone else would have. 

"I have Monica," he whispered to himself as soon as he was fully aware he was alone. "And one day, she's going to become Mrs. Monica Gellar Bing, and we're going to live happily ever after." 

He smiled to himself. It was better than any other fantasy he heard of, that much he was sure of. 

They were meant for each other, and no matter what, they were going to end up with each other. 

Because Chandler didn't work without Monica, didn't fit without Monica. 

* * * 

Chandler and Monica clutched each other's hands, Monica facing away from Chandler, as Chandler looked at their intertwined fingers. Monica was silent for a moment, staring at the large fountain in the center of the building, her eyes seemingly glued to the sparkling coins glinting at the bottom. Mall-goers passed by them, most catching glances at the couple, some glaring, few unfazed. Monica ripped her eyes away from the sight before her and turned around so that she was fully facing Chandler. "Is it hell yet?" she finally whispered, barely audible for even herself. 

"What?"

"Your life… this relationship… is it hell yet?" Monica repeated, this time more expectant of a solid answer. 

"Mon, you make it heaven… there's no room for hell," he replied, a small, soft smile plastered on his face. He gripped her hands tighter and pushed in his chair closer. "Don't worry about pain in my life. As long as you're here to keep me from falling into the fiery depths, I'll remain in the clouds." 

The hard, punk rock playing in the background dissolved, and a new, slow song began to play. Chandler looked at Monica and smiled. He quietly began to hum the tune, closing his eyes. 

"They way you laugh at what I say," he lightly began to sing along, "The way you look at each new day. The way your tears fall right on cue… _that's _what I love about you." He stopped singing when the voices of 98 Degrees stopped, and listened to the instruments blend in together. His smile widened, and he stood from his seat, holding out his hand towards Monica. "Would you care to dance?" 

Monica looked up at him, a smile beginning to form. "In the midst of all these people?" 

"What people? I see no one but you." 

Monica's modest smile turned into a grin, and she took Chandler's hand. "Well, when you put it that way, I _can't _say no."

Chandler laughed as he led her a few inches away from their table, and they both set up in a slow-dance position. Monica cupped both of her hands on Chandler's neck, and Chandler laid his hands on her waist. They began to sway with the music as the second verse came in. 

"Nobody else knows me by heart, takes me where I can reach the stars. Makes me believe in love… the way you do," Monica whispered into Chandler's ear. Chandler smiled and gazed down at her, his eyes dancing, his heart happy. 

"You see in me the man that I can be, and I'm thanking you. You've given me all I ever need, all I ever wanted too. I know how blessed I am. Girl, you are my best friend," he continued. 

Monica rested her head on his chest and sighed contently for the first time in weeks. She closed her eyes, a smile still embroidered on her face. "Do you mean it?" 

"I don't sing it when I don't mean it." 

Monica laughed lightly, opening her eyes. "Even when you sing Milkshake?" 

"Okay, so there are _some _exceptions," he replied jokingly. He eyed Monica and kissed the top of her head, smiling blissfully. Monica glanced up once more and gazed into Chandler's deep, blue eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. 

Chandler took one of his hands off of her waist and stroked the side of her cheek, brushing a stray strand of her raven hair away. Then he leaned down and pulled her into a loving, passionate kiss. Their lips remained locked until a grunt disrupted them, and they pulled apart. 

"Well isn't this lovely?" Joey's cruel voice said mockingly, as he began to slowly, tauntingly, walk over to the couple. His walk was swayed as if he had 100 beers. His crowd followed, all of which who were sneering or smirking, their stride matching Joey's. Chandler and Monica pulled apart, Monica looking down to the floor, Chandler balling up his fists and glaring at the group. 

"Fuck off," Chandler hissed back, beginning to walk forward. 

"Please," Monica whispered, her voice trembling, as she took her hand and put it on Chandler's arm. "Don't, please."

"Listen to the whore, don't want to upset her. She's what keeps you going on at night, ain't she?" The stench of alcohol was strong, and it was clear that the whole group was drunk, so drunk they could barely think. 

The entire crowd howled with laughter, and Chandler shrugged off Monica's delicate hand off of his arm. He clenched his teeth, all the while trying to look as calm as possible. "Joe, you don't want this fist jammed in your jaw again, do you? Cause I swear on my own grave that if my fist meets your jaw, it won't be the fist that'll shatter." 

"Oh, you got my whole body trembling." Joey's voice dripped with sarcasm, and Chandler stepped forward one more step. 

"You leave me and Monica alone, and I promise you your jaw will remain one piece." 

"How about you ditch this bitch, and I promise not to make your life a living hell?" 

"Over my dead body." 

Joey looked over at Chandler, then over his shoulder at his friends. He smirked. "Gladly." He stumbled over to the pair, having to clutch onto the table to keep his balance. "Wouldn't mind seeing both of you dead." 

His crude comments didn't surprise Monica, or even Chandler. 

The gleaming, silver knife that was pulled out of his pocket did, though. 

* * *

Most of the house was a mess as Judy threw anything in her way. She looked under the couch, over the cabinets, inside the drawers. 

"Where in hell can it be?" she mumbled to herself distractedly, still searching for the extra stash of liquor the house usually held. 

She'd had a rough day at work. And when she had rough days, she drank. And when she drank some, she needed more. But today she didn't have more, and she'd search anywhere and everywhere to find it. Alcohol was her solace, her break away from Monica. 

Monica. 

Judy cursed under her breath, the thought of her "beloved" daughter giving her a new accusation. 

"That thief must have stolen it." 

She was too drunk and too weary from searching to bother to care that she was talking to herself. 

She stumbled up the stairs and walked into Monica's room, instantly beginning to probe through her belongings. She skimmed her hand across the dresser that stood near the closet, and clutched onto something she'd never seen before. 

There, in her hands, dangled a beautiful locket, on it engraved _Monica_. 

**__**

To Be Continued…

Okay, so I'm kinda going out on a limb here. I depend on all of my reader's support on this chapter, cause I admit it's really… maybe unrealistic, maybe too dramatic… whatever it is. Please review, though, to tell me what you think of it, cause I can't continue until I know how you guys like it. Please review! 


	8. Chapter Eight: Unconscious

**A/N: **_Okay, so there's almost no forgiving my lack of updating. I've just had so, so much going on, and pretty terrible things were happening. I even considered quitting fanfics altogether. But, now, writing is a solace to me, and I'm sure you guys want to see me continue this fic from the reviews. Please understand, though, if I don't update every week. Life is tough at the moment. But, please, never cease to review!  _

Chapter Eight 

****

****

Monica stifled a small, soft scream, and Chandler instantly stood in front of her, as if to protect her. Joey began to menacingly walk forward towards his friend, as Chandler backed up himself and Monica. He held the knife low, almost hiding it, and wouldn't take his eyes off of Chandler and Monica. 

"It's funny how some things work out," Joey whispered, glancing at his knife, then at the couple. "This story kind of reminds us all of Romeo and Juliet; two lovers who won't keep others from separating their love." He snorted. "They were quite the odd couple. And they were idiots. It wasn't a good combination." Still he walked forward, until Monica and Chandler were backed up against a wall. "Well, their love only grew stronger. That is – until the end." Joey began to raise the knife, and his breath quickened. "I speak for the entire town when I say that this story should end _now._" 

As Joey swung the weapon towards Chandler, Chandler tried to move away. The knife still slid across Chandler's arm, ripping his shirt and causing blood to seep out. When Chandler groaned with pain, onlookers began to realize what was happening. They, too, began to scream. 

"Joey, stop it! You're drunk, you don't know what you're doing!" Chandler tried to plead, trying to cover Monica as much as possible. "Don't do anything you'll regret!" 

"I won't regret this, believe me." 

"Joe, the cops are coming," Chandler continued with his plea, making up things to stop him. "If you put away the knife, I'll bail you out. Just put the knife away. _Please_." 

"The cops ain't coming, Chandler. I'm not a moron. Now move out of the way." 

Chandler shook his head. "No. Stop it, Joey! You're drunk, your mind is clouded – don't _do this_! You'll be sorry, I swear you will." 

Joey laughed and raised his knife once again, striking Chandler at the side of his stomach. Chandler doubled over in pain, blood now staining the floor below him, and Monica screamed. She rushed to his side, but as Chandler kneeled on the floor, clutching his stomach, Joey pushed him to the side. Monica stood from her position next to Chandler, knowing she was Joey's next target. Since there was only a wall behind her and Joey's friends surrounded her, she also knew she was trapped. 

"See, Monica? You ruin _everything_." His voice was colder and harder than Monica had ever heard it, and she knew that half of it was caused by the flood of alcohol in his veins. 

Monica shook her head, helpless, but Joey ignored her pleading eyes. Instead, he took his knife and swiftly stabbed her in the chest, just missing her heart. Monica gasped, falling to the floor, as tears began to fall from her eyes. 

"Joey," she gasped, holding her hands near the fresh wound, "Please." 

"Do you really expect me to listen to you?" 

Chandler, who was still on the floor, scrambled up and hovered above Monica. He looked at Joey, pure, deep hatred in his eyes. He pushed Joey, but Joey merely looked at the boys behind him. About five of Joey's friends then grabbed Chandler, pulling him away from Monica. Chandler tried to free himself, but to no avail. His wounds and the boys' strength combined made it nearly impossible for him to come loose. 

Joey returned his attention to Monica. He kneeled beside her, and all she could do was look up at him, still placing her hand over her deep gash, tears flowing down her cheeks. Joey smiled cruelly and placed the knife softly on her cheek. He traced the weapon over her delicate skin, leaving small cuts across her face. Then, he took the knife and slid it into her arm, watching the blood pour out, taking pleasure in her pain. Monica could do nothing, say nothing, so she just let Joey torture her. 

"I've waited a long time to do this," Joey said to Monica, standing up from the floor. "Stand up." Monica shook her head, obviously unable to stand up. Joey glared. "Up."

Monica then nodded her head, not wanting to get beat more for disobeying. She took her right, uncut arm and pushed herself up to her knees with it. Breathing heavily, Monica closed her eyes, trying to ease the pain. 

"All the way up." 

Monica nodded faintly once more and weakly pulled herself onto her feet. "What do you want, Joey?" Monica managed to ask, pain still ripping through her. 

"To kill you." 

He took his knife and stabbed her once in the stomach, two more times on the arms. Monica let him abuse her, sure that she had no way out. Chandler was left unconscious on the floor, as the boys beat him until he went black, and there were no sirens heard in the distance. Joey then began to beat her with his bare hands, causing Monica to fall over. 

She let it be; she knew she was going to die. 

By the time the police and ambulance arrived, darkness had already overcome Monica. 

To Be Continued… 

****

_Yes, I know, it's very violent, and very dramatic. But that's just me. Please, review if you want the next chapter, whether you like it or not. I really went out on a limb here in this chapter, but it kind of opens a few doors. I also apologize that it's so short, but I didn't want to add anything else. Please review. And, once again, I'm sorry for not updating until now. I'll try to keep you guys updated. _


	9. Chapter Nine: A Time to Die

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A/N: _Okay, everyone is going to kill me. Well, at least not until I complete the story :p Okay, I would like to apologize… I know it took, literally, forever to post this mere chapter up. I didn't forget about you guys, I never would. Things are, or were, really, really, really hectic and bizarre for a few months. But I'm back, so please don't murder me. I'll try and get the next chapter in before 2006 comes… so, cross your fingers. Okay, I'm kidding – I'm really going to try and update as much as possible from now on. And I hope all of you didn't forget about me… and I hope this chapter was at least worth 1/1000th of the wait._

Chapter Nine

"He's not behind bars; he barely visited the police. All he has to endure now is therapy."

"_What_? You're kidding, right? They're trying to _help_ him?"

"We're about the only two who are enraged about this; everyone else doesn't think Monica is much of a loss."

"Shut up."

"What? I'm stating the truth. Learn it and live it."

"Did you visit Officer Kerr? What did he say?"

"Idiot, I just _told _you."

"Hey, don't let your anger out on _me_. I didn't do anything."

"Then who am I to let it out on?"

"I'm not about to stand here and be your punching bag. So just shut up."

Tears were melted on their pale faces as they sat in seats facing each other. They'd been in the room for near 24 hours straight, and shadows were embedded in their skin. Once mounted by smiles, their lips curled into deep frowns; so deep, it seemed likely that they would receive wrinkles at the age of twenty. A foot began to tap continuously, creating an unhappy rhythm of astir soldiers.

"Cut it out."

"Why should I?"

"You sound like war."

"I feel like it, too."

"Stop being so pessimistic."

They both almost laughed at that. _Pessimistic_. Well, what was there to be optimistic about? Life, or lack therefore of? There was a chuckle at the crude irony.

"What the hell is there to laugh about?"

There was no answer; both knew that the question was stated out of pure irritation rather than curiosity.

"Time's been standing still since she left, hasn't it?"

"I sure as hell hope it starts to catch up to par. I don't want to feel so deathly sick the rest of my life. I feel like I'm going to hurl.

"Life will go on. You'll live."

"I'd prefer to die."

__

To Be Continued…

Ha. You've been waiting months for _that_. Well, that's really barely a chapter – my next one will be up either later today or tomorrow. I _promise_. But please review. I know this was a terrible, vague, and EXTREMELY short chapter, but just bear with me. This chapter was really to just let all of you sink in the fact that this story is continuing ;)


	10. Chapter Ten: End of Act Three

A/N: _See? Aren't you all just so happy and proud of me? I kept my promise. So, now, you MUST enjoy this chapter. If you don't, then I'm not continuing! Okay, yes I will. But I will NOT be happy if you don't tell me what you think! It doesn't have to be a good review, mind you – I don't mind constructive criticism. Okay… enjoy._

Chapter Ten

If she could talk, if she could just reassure Chandler that she was okay, she was fine, and explain that everything was going to work out, the days wouldn't have been so long. Without Monica, and without any knowing of whether or not he'd be able to speak to her again, Chandler felt more miserable with each breath he took. To numb down the time, Chandler wrote in his journal to Monica, writing every detail of his day, from the weather to how he felt right down to the number one hit song on z100 at the moment. He wanted to make sure Monica didn't miss anything while she was unconscious and limp in the blatantly dull hospital. But he wasn't sure if that was even enough.

When he wasn't writing in the journal, he was thinking of the day at the mall. There was no way the gash that the memory left on his mind would ever heal; but without Monica, the pain of it throbbed. Worst of all, he couldn't help but beat himself up over the fact that he should have, could have, done something to help her. He was there when it happened, when Joey beat her to a coma, but he was helpless. With that knowledge, Chandler nearly doubled over in physical pain when reminiscing about the day, when remembering waking up next to Monica in the hospital, when seeing the mangled, yet breathing, body of his life. He felt responsible, yet knew he wasn't; he felt without a heart, yet knew it was there; he felt like he was losing his mind, yet knew he was sane. Everything that used to make sense to him washed out of his mind, leaving Chandler with a dry, perplexed outlook.

* * *

****

To my one and only,

Today's worse than yesterday. Every day is worse than the last. You're killing me, here, Mon… I miss you, and I'm afraid for your life. These feelings are the same every day, put the pain sharpens. I just want you to live, babe. I need you to live. Y'know, three years ago, I had the most innocent mind, the most shielded heart, the strongest of all personalities. I could never have imagined enduring any pain; the only bad that happened to me was my dad leaving. Other than that, life was pretty ideal. It was a cliché movie. But now, with you, I'm so much more fragile, so less shielded – yet living so much more. At least, I was living so much more. Now, with your life on the line, I find it hard to live at all. So that's why I need you to wake up.

Today's weather is pretty crummy. Well, it's actually beaming with sun, rifling a small breeze, and showing only bright, scattered clouds. But to me, that's pretty crummy. It's crummy how the weather doesn't match my mood. That always makes it harder, cause I know that everyone with a sunny day is cherishing the time they have with such weather. But, here I am, wishing to be pelted with raindrops and surrounded by darkness.

I'd fill you up on today's events, but I'm about to fall asleep at my desk. Get better. Please.

Love, kisses, and stuff,

You're one and only

* * *

****

As he sipped a Classic Coke glass bottle, Chandler glanced around him, inhaling the toxic air of New York. As he breathed in his surroundings, he noticed a former "member" of the Joey clad stride up to him, clutching something behind his back. Instantly, Chandler stood up, raising the glass as a form of protection, trying to interpret whether the boy's lips formed a smile or a sneer.

"Get the _hell _away from me, Kip," Chandler hissed when the boy was in hearing range, only a few feet away from him.

Kip threw up his hands as if surrendering, a bouquet of flowers grasped in his left hand. "Peace?"

"_Peace_? You want _peace_…" The words were only slightly flamed, yet indicated that Chandler would soon burst in a rage. Chandler began to tap the now empty Coke bottle in his hand, circling Kip, slow and seething. "I don't know whether to hang you, drown you, or just stab you in the heart with glass."

"Hey, Chandler, I thought we were _friends_," Kip replied, seemingly reformed into innocence.

Chandler chortled menacingly. "Yes, it sure showed what great _buddies _we were when you tried to _kill _me!" His voice raged in such a volume, both Kip and Chandler jumped, sure that the building next to them shook.

"No, we weren't trying to kill you…"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_. You were trying to kill _Monica! _You're such a moron, Kip! A _devil_, a _jackass!_"

"Chandler, I only came here to apologize and visit Monica. And give her these." Kip withdrew his arm to bring the flowers closer to Chandler.

"It's not going to happen! _Never_ are you going to be forgiven! You almost killed her, Kip! And the only reason you're _apologizing _is because you were _caught!_"

"Would it have really been that much of a loss?" Kip sneered, his innocence obviously vanishing with every word Chandler exploded towards him.

Chandler, his face turning red, his body trembling, his heart about to rip out of his chest, grabbed the outstretched arm, twisted it until he heard a _crack_, and snatched the flowers. Kip fell to the floor from the shock and pain of a contorted arm, as Chandler threw the flowers back into his face forcefully, making sure the thorns of the roses thrust into Kip's skin.

"You're not to come within one hundred yards of Monica – or we'll report to the cops, and you'll go to jail for good. Just _back off_ and live your own pathetic life. Go run down the alley and buy some beer, whatever; as long as it has nothing to do with Monica. Actually, while you're at it, you can go to hell. _Go to hell_, Kip. You and the rest of your _buddies_."

Before moving, Chandler took his Coke bottle, raised it in the air, and thrashed it to the ground, missing Kip by inches. Kip, startled and afraid for his life, jumped slightly at the sound of shattering glass, wincing as some of the glass tore into his skin to accompany the thorns already implanted. Before he got up, he looked up at Chandler, who, in turn, looked down, his shadows creating what looked like a masked reaper.

"I'll give you mercy, Kip," Chandler finished, his voice dripping with nothing but hatred. "Even though you gave nothing of the sort to Monica."

With that, Chandler stepped over Kip and walked into the building that awaited, pushing the glass door open, walking inside, and unwilling to look back and see if the body laid out on the floor had the strength to move on.

* * *

****

As Chandler entered the colossal mansion he and his mother shared, sighing, rubbing his temples, and trying to hold in tears, glistening eyes sparked out of the shadows of the marble living room.

"Chandler." The voice was unmistakable; the tone was terrorizing.

Chandler cut off his pace and stopped short, spinning towards the sound of the voice.

"Um, something wrong, Mom?"

For a moment, everything around the two froze, and, for an extra moment, the two of them locked eyes. What Chandler saw in his mother's eyes lacked love or concern; instead, it held bitter contempt, blended with pure collision. What truly took Chandler aback, however, was the repulsion and disgust that was hidden behind her skin's shadows.

"You are _never _to see her again."

To Be Continued…

What did you think? Review to let me know! I hope you guys aren't getting disappointed with me or Forbidden. There's still a **lot **that has to happen in this story… and I mean a lot when I say a lot. Anyway… just tell me what you think. I know I'm a little rusty, but I'll jump back.


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Risk of Reality

**A/N:** _Okay… I'm going to attempt to do some major kissing-up. I realize that I haven't updated since… I think September or October (goodness me, has it been THAT long?)… but I didn't forget about you guys. I've just merely hit a rocky road in the past few months, plus the hecticness – pretend it's a word – isn't ceasing. I'm back, though, and I'll try to promise that it will NEVER take (whips out calculator…) … 6 months to update EVER again. I think I'm making it sound worse. Maybe I shouldn't have told you guys how long it's actually been? Well, for whoever remembers this series, I'm continuing. I hope you guys continue to be as great as you've been in the past! I love you guys, even if I haven't been here in half a year to show it. Seriously, I should stop talking now. I'm making myself look incredibly bad._… enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

Artificial light penetrated into his skin. As she circled him, any emotions that would have been witnessed through her eyes were frozen by her lack of soul.

"Did you know?"

He wasn't sure whether to play the dummy or confess blatantly what he'd been hiding for months. The rigorous, oppressive ice that frosted her voice's tone made him want to cower into the shadows of the kitchen's corners.

"Know-" he halted, then continued, "-what?"

She chuckled, and his mind screamed at him, telling himself that maybe she was joking – testing him to see if there _was_ something she should know about. Her humor slowly diminished as she gripped something from her pocket. Gradually, she lifted her arm to allow the vision of a golden locket come to him.

"Tell me you didn't know that our little _Harmonica_ was smitten with Chandler Bing."

His answer was halted by a series of deep breaths. "No." His response was short and barely audible.

"What?"

"No. I didn't know," he answered for the second time, his voice more secure with this reply.

Judy sighed, dropping the necklace back into her pocket, and walked over to Ross. She gripped him in an uncomfortable hug, which lasted a mere second.

"Oh, Rossy, I knew you wouldn't keep such a thing from me," she said, and walked out of the room. Only Judy Gellar could leave such a bitter conversation and pretend the encounter never occurred.

Ross looked at the bare table before him, feeling appalled. He denied the truth. He got away with it. His sister would suffer the consequences.

* * *

November 18

My love, my lifetime,

I can't see you anymore. At least, my mother said so. And, Mon… I couldn't argue with her. Arguing would only mean that she would make me move to Arizona, or California. Maybe even Dollywood. And then I **truly** wouldn't be able to see you again. I hate to admit it, but I would never be able to move here on my own. I need my mother. Or her money and shelter, at least. I could care less about her now. I always knew she was colder than most women with sons, but I never knew she was without a heart and soul. Now I know. Well, she couldn't give me a single good reason. She wouldn't tell me why I couldn't see you, other than the typical "I said so." But I have to obey. That is… make her think that I'm obeying. Mon, don't you ever think that I'd leave you. I promised you that I wouldn't. Besides, how could I live without my sole source of life? We'll just have to be careful. We'll just have to make sure she doesn't know we're together.

Mon, she can't ever find out that I disobeyed her. She'd never hurt **me**, but I'm afraid of what she'd do to **you**. I'm not sure you can even run from a woman without soul. And, I swear to you, if she ever hurts you, I'll kill her myself. I don't care what you say to that, Mon. She won't ever be able to hurt you, because I'll always be on your side. We haven't exactly said our vows and linked ourselves in wedlock yet, but I like knowing that, with us, it's for better and for worse. I don't need to be married to you at the moment to know that you're the only love I'll know.

I'm sure you don't need this. Not that you're even reading it now, but you're in enough pain as it is. Which brings me to my next plea: please wake up. Mon, I need you. I need you completely… I won't settle on the memories or your limp presence. I need you. All of you. I need you to wake up. I need you to live a life longer than 18 years. I need you to drag yourself out of that coma! I need to live happily ever after with you.

Living off of your love,

Your lifetime's only forever

* * *

The only hint of alcohol in her presence was that of her drunken stupor. Those in her way cleared a path for her, allowing the woman to gradually find her way to the end of the hallway.

"Excuse me, miss?" someone called after her, seeing her about to enter a closed door.

"What." It wasn't a question; it was a demand. The doctor that hurried after her lessened his haste, already afraid of the woman.

"You're supposed to check in at the front desk. You have to state who you are, who you're here-"

"I'm Monica Gellar's-" she paused, allowing a slight hiccup to interrupt her statement, "mother."

"Mother?" The man looked her up and down, both confused and terrified of her demeanor. He hesitantly nodded. "Would you like to know your daughter's-"

"Don't _call _her that," she hissed.

Taken aback, the doctor restated his words. "Would you like to know – Monica's – condition?"

She impatiently shook her head. "Just let me see her. And I don't expect you'll be eavesdropping?"

A hiccup erupted lightly from her lips once more. She smirked, unwilling to be delayed any longer. She walked into the room that held Monica, closed the door behind her, and revealed the flask beneath her coat's sleeve. Unfastening the cap, she slipped the alcohol down her throat. As she inched towards Monica's unconscious body, continuing to eagerly swallow the intoxicating beverage, she also produced the golden locket from her pockets. When the flask was empty, she pitched it aside, listening to it strike the hard floor fervently.

By then she was right next to her daughter's bed, gazing over her. Neither the tubes that lay around Monica, nor the air mask that allowed her to breathe, or even the grim, brutal wounds that were pounded into her flesh made Judy flinch. Instead, she laughed.

"Oh, dear little Monica. What would Daddy have said to see you like this?" she sneered violently, her fingers leading the locket into an unhurried, repeating circle in the air. "Daddy would not have liked to see you so hurt."

Tauntingly, she began to lightly beat the chains of the necklace against Monica's gashes. "You've yet to see what I can do to you, Monica."

With that statement, Judy grasped the chains in one hand and the locket's heart in another. In one swift motion, she tore the necklace apart and tossed it beside the body struggling to live.

"You've yet to experience true pain."

To be continued…

Okay, so I'm losing my touch… sorry! Please, oh please, oh please – tell me what you think! Be brutally kind or brutally hurtful – I don't care, just as long as the reviews are honest! Please, reviews truly make me smile so much wider each day. And, once again, I'm ever so sorry for making you guys wait for so long. I can't really explain why it's taken so long… but just know that I'm not giving up on Forbidden! You guys are the bestest for waiting so patiently, and being so kind with your reviews :D Continue the kindness, eh?


	12. Chapter Twelve: Collage of Malice

A/N:_Did it sink in to you all that I'm back again:p I know I've always taken a long time to update, but it won't take long for me to update from now on. Well – most of the time. I can't forget reality :D Well, I'm going to keep going on with this story, although a lot of you may have forgotten about it, because I know a lot of people have asked me to continue all those months back. Once again, I'm sorry it's taken so long to continue with this story. It's going to finish, though, rest assured. And I hope I'm still pleasing you guys with this story :) Enjoy!_

**Chapter Twelve**

November 20

I'm slowly losing my mind, Mon. I don't know what to do with myself. I literally feel like I'm separated from the rest of the world. I'm going insane, I know it. Sometimes I see you next to me. Sometimes I even feel your warm embrace. Sometimes I forget that all of this happened, and wait for you to arrive at my window, holding your journal in your hands, ready to exchange your thoughts for mine. I talk to you. I talk to you whenever I could. And sometimes I swear I could hear you talk back.

I wish I could be optimistic. I wish I'd never think that you could possibly die. But it's been weeks, and you're still out of my reach. I'm so terrified, Mon. I'm so afraid that you don't know how much I love you yet, because I haven't found any way I could possibly show just how much of my heart you've captured. I'm so scared that you'll leave me, just when I need you the most. I'm paralyzed with fear, just thinking of eternity without you. Mon - if you die, there's no way I could live. I'll have to die, too.

Waiting ever so humbly,

Your other half

* * *

"Has she finally died?"

Chandler spun to face the person who uttered this, expecting to witness Joey, stone-faced and taunting. Instead, a stranger stood before him, sneering. Without any thought, Chandler, tossing his books aside, balled his fists and stiffly walked over to the intruder.

"You're about to wish you were," he hissed.

His hateful, menacing words were almost mechanical – his readiness to fight almost instinct.

"A broken man coming to fight me – I'm trembling."

"Oh, you got my whole body trembling."

Chandler stopped in his tracks, his head ringing with the voice of Joey. Shaking his head once, he attempted to clear his mind. He continued to advance towards the boy, who stood in his spot, unfazed and ready for combat.

"Don't make this more painful for yourself," Chandler demanded.

He took his time proceeding towards the boy, putting no haste into his movements. The entire conversation was languid in energy – still, Chandler's fury heightened and his veins rushed with adrenaline. People who realized what was occurring began to stand around the two, silent. There were no pleas of "Fight!" or chants to arouse a brawl.

"I think I speak for the entire town when I say that it'll be you who's cowering in pain by the end of it all, Chandler."

"I speak for the entire town when I say that this story should end now."

Once again, Joey's past words shot deep underneath Chandler's skin, and his rage intensified. More people surrounded Chandler and his latest enemy, completely soundless. Still, Chandler made no lunge towards the boy, though he did quicken his pace slightly. The stranger still stood a few yards away.

"Come get me," the boy said, amused, after a few seconds of utter stillness. "Protect Monica – though I'm not sure anything or anyone can save her now."

Instead of charging towards the stranger, Chandler stood rooted to his spot.

Was she still alive?

If she was, did she waken?

If she did, then why wasn't he there to hold her hand and tell her that she'd soon be okay?

…What if she wasn't?

"Go to hell."

With that, Chandler scooped his belongs from the concrete below him and began to push his way through the crowd. The group of people didn't make an attempt to scatter once they realized that there would be no fight. Instead, they began to 'boo' Chandler, shoving him as he walked past them, taunting him with blaring, crude voices. Chandler clenched his jaw, weaving through the mass of teenagers with effort, ignoring anything propelled at him, whether with force or with words. Past words and the crowd's bitter shouts dissolved together, creating a collage of words.

"That deserves a kiss."

"Come on, Chandler – make the right decision for once."

"We're going to go through everything together – whether they drag me down or not."

"You've already made the biggest mistake you can – what are you afraid of?"

"Hate is always worse than love."

"Is she really worth it?"

"A little pain is worth everything you're giving me."

"She's dying, Chandler. She's as good as gone – it's only you that's left to protect now."

"We let love be our shield."

"You're dragging yourself through the mud, Bing."

"I can't get away."

Images of Monica whisked into his memories: their laughter together, their kisses, their pure bliss. Then, the haunting image of Joey charging at her with his weapon crept into his mind. Instantly, his head began to pound. He fell to his knees, gripping his temples with his thumbs, ready to vomit from disgust and rage.

"You'll be sorry – I swear you will."

"I won't regret this, believe me."

"How about you ditch this bitch, and I promise not to make your life a living hell?"

"You'd better hope she dies, Chandler."

Suddenly, Chandler sprang from his knees and latched onto the neck of the stranger to the right of him, the stranger who got on his last nerve. The stranger who wished the death of Monica. With his head still pounding, he gripped his neck in a constricting hold.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right this instant," Chandler whispered heatedly, watching with pleasure as the boy choked for his words.

The people that surrounded Chandler now began to back away, yet still locked their eyes onto the scene set before them. Chandler, his hand still secured on the boy's neck, glanced around the crowd and saw how they backed away, saw the horror in their eyes. His focus returned to his victim, who was now turning purple from lack of air.

"You'll regret the day you decided to follow this pack of imbeciles," Chandler said, his voice seething with loathing and disgust.

With these words, Chandler thrust the boy onto the solid concrete below, releasing his fingers from their grip. The boy merely looked up at him, clutching his own throat lightly, gasping for breath. Chandler, still placed before the boy, looked at the people encircling him.

"You all think you can phase me," he shouted, making sure everyone heard. "You think you can make me stop loving Monica! Well, you're all idiots for believing that I can ever stop loving her. And you're all even bigger imbeciles for not seeing all that I see in her." His voice rang out across the mass of teenagers who had gathered.

Chandler began to walk out of the crowd once more, which was now silent. As he finally thrust himself out of the mob, he took a last glimpse of those gathered, all who were still noiseless and still watching him.

"Rest assured, it won't be me _or_ Monica who'll be destroyed by all of this!"

Chandler didn't give anyone a chance to reply – as idiotic as it may have looked, he dashed from the people who still stood speechless.

He ran to Monica.

* * *

His running ceased into hastened walking as he entered the hospital. Nobody glanced at him, too consumed by their own grief and anticipation to care that someone had entered the building. When he reached the front desk, panting for breath, the nurse who Chandler grew to know through his frequent visits shook her head.

"I'm here to see Mon-"

"Chandler, I can't let you in. It's family only." The nurse's voice was somewhat distressed, and Chandler stopped to think, for just a moment, that she felt sympathy towards him.

"I already told you. Monica has no family – I'm all she-"

Once again, the woman cut his sentence short. "Chandler, we only allowed you in when we thought that the girl was an orphan. We can't let you in now, I'm sorry. She _has _family, dear."

"No she doesn't!" Chandler declared, his voice slightly raised, still heated from what had occurred only minutes before.

"Her mother came to see her. Now, I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to either wait in the waiting room or leave."

Chandler looked at the nurse, who was now standing before him instead of sitting behind the desk. His mind became clouded and perplexed, and his heart began to rapidly increase its beating. A single drop of sweat glistened along the side of his face.

"What?" he managed to utter, his voice dry and dazed. "When?"

"Actually, she's still in there. She's been in there for about an hour."

Having just been ceased of its pain, Chandler's head began to pound once more with the thought of why Judy could possibly be there. Fear gradually consumed him, making his head pound with more force. Without acknowledging the nurse further, Chandler began to walk down the hallway, his strides rushed.

"Chandler, I told you that you can't see her!"

He continued to ignore the woman. When he finally reached Monica's room, he instantly opened the door with trembling hands. Before him, Judy lay passed out on the floor, a flask of alcohol a few feet away. Though his panic was slightly diminished, Chandler began to quiver more than before.

He hurried to Monica's bed and saw the broken locket lying beside her. He fell to his knees, which throbbed from the impact of the floor, and, resting his arms on Monica's bed, he grasped the locket. Chandler buried his face into the mattress that Monica slept upon. Holding his hands in the air, still clamping onto the broken locket, he clenched his fists.

"You have to-"

Seeing Judy strewn upon the floor and Chandler on his knees, the nurse, who just entered, cut herself off. Chandler put down his hands, but allowed them to rest on the mattress and continue to hold the split necklace. When he lifted his head to look at the nurse, she was surprised to see his eyes red, his cheeks stained from brackish tears. Still kneeling, Chandler accepted the tears that fell from his eyes, finding no need to restrain them or dry them from his skin.

"You can't-" he paused, turning his head towards Monica now, "- let her see Monica."

She shook her head. "Chandler, orders are-"

"No!" he exclaimed, looking now at the woman but still in his original position. His eyes were frantic, his voice was furious and quavering. "She can't see her! She'll-"

Sobs that clutched his throat escaped, and he concealed his face with the bed once more, muffling the sound of his weeping. The nurse walked over to him, gently standing beside his hunched form.

"She has a right to see her own daughter," she replied softly.

Chandler shook his head, his face still against the bed. When he raised his head, his entire face was red and his eyes were bloodshot.

"If you let her see Monica-" His voice quivered, but he continued, "then… she'll kill her."

He didn't wait for the nurse to react. Instead, he took Monica's hand and held it with both of his own, his head buried once more. With each additional tear that flooded the sheets, Chandler gripped Monica's hand tighter.

Judy Gellar knew.

And Judy Gellar would kill.

To Be Continued…

Mhm… so please tell me what you think! I miss all of your feedback. You may not think so, but I read all of your comments closely, and consider everything you say. Please review if you'd like to see me write more! It isn't a threat – I'll write whether you review or not. But your reviews make me such a better writer. And, with more reviews, I'll know that more people want to see this continue – and that'll continue my will to update Forbidden quickly. Please – I live off of your comments! Tell me anything and everything you're thinking about my story at this moment – good or bad!


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Wake Up, Sweet Angel

Chapter Thirteen

She fought to open her eyes, but the haze that suppressed her was too thick. Brief pricks of pain stabbed at her as she battled for the light that she knew followed the darkness which now enveloped her. She attempted to move, and was unsure whether she was successful or not. It felt as if someone was roughly placing something within her flesh, and, suddenly, a cutting, unsparing surge of agony swept throughout her flesh. Through instinct, she screamed. She wasn't sure if the scream had actually erupted from her lips, or if it was simply her mind screaming.

* * *

A gentle trickle of blood seeped through his bandage, and Chandler merely placed his hand above it to ease the flow. He sat stiffly on a wooden bench just near the park's set of swings, which were occupied by two children of about seven years of age. As Chandler watched the two, he noticed the smiles that formed their face's adornment. He smiled in spite of himself. 

"Hey," someone called softly from behind the bench. Chandler slowly turned around to face Ross, who nervously placed his hands in his pockets and traced the tip of his right shoe with the dirt underneath him.

"Hi," Chandler replied, turning back to face the children on the swings.

Ross halted his foot and walked cautiously over to the side of the bench. "Mind if I join you?"

Chandler didn't respond. Instead, he gestured his right hand towards the vacant spot on the bench, indicating for Ross to sit. Ross obeyed and perched himself next to Chandler.

For several minutes, the two merely stared at the boy and girl who tried to swing at an increasingly ascending height, giggling when the other lost balance and rattled the swing from side to side. Chandler's gaze shifted towards the sky, in which several clouds gradually multiplied to form an enlarging rain cloud. The silence was broken by the slight shuffle of Ross's feet.

"So - I'm guessing you're wondering why I'm here," Ross finally said, glancing at Chandler.

As he always did when he was nervous, Ross cleared his throat several times. When Chandler said nothing and merely remained staring at the forming storm in the sky, Ross looked back at the swings. The children were no longer there.

A breeze progressed into a slight gust, and the sun's warmth had completely disappeared beneath the blanket of clouds. As winds received strength and blew fallen, pale leaves across the ground, those in the park began to scatter home. Before long, Chandler, Ross, and the park's settings were all that remained. Ross, who grew increasingly nervous, decided to stare up at the sky, as Chandler had been doing for the past several minutes. A lone raindrop spilled into his eye. Ross quickly closed his eyelids and rubbed them, trying to ease the sting.

"What did you tell her?" Chandler finally murmured as several raindrops fell from the spurting clouds.

Ross paused and looked at Chandler, his left eye now colored red. "What? Who?"

"Judy. Your mother. What did you tell her?"

After hesitating for a few moments, Ross replied, "Nothing."

Chandler tore his gaze from the sky to lay his eyes upon Ross. "If you're here, then it's because of Monica."

"Well, yeah, but I didn't tell my mom anything."

Chandler shrugged with one shoulder, then looked at the floor. "Then why are you here?"

Ross continued to eye Chandler. "It's nothing urgent. And it's not exactly news. Nothing _happened_…"

"Okay, Ross. Just tell me _why _you're _here_. What's important enough to risk being seen with Chandler Bing?" His words were bitter and hurried.

To Ross, it seemed as if Chandler wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. To Chandler, the words were hastened only because he knew that Judy Gellar would always be close.

"I just wanted to let you know…" Ross sighed and stood from his seat, "… I'm on your side, Chandler. Don't doubt that. I'm only here to help you. I want to see my little sister happy, and it's only been because of you that she's _ever_ been happy."

Ross began to walk away from Chandler and towards his home. Chandler stood as well, turning to watch Ross leave.

"Are you sure that's the only reason you came here?" Chandler called after him.

Ross, who was now yards away, rested his steps to turn and face Chandler. For a few seconds, he merely stared at Chandler, and Chandler back at him. At last, Ross gave a single nod, and continued with his journey home. Chandler sat back down, easing his back onto the support of the bench.

The several raindrops soon multiplied, and the storm that Chandler had witnessed forming now enveloped him in a smothering embrace.

* * *

The drawers that once held firm positions within the dresser now lay separately on the carpet, its contents spilled over the floor as well. The drawers of the desk were left open, the closet doors opened as well, exposing what was within the small space. 

Judy, taking a sip of the vodka that lay beside her, rummaged through one of the drawers. After a few moments of digging through clothes, she came upon a picture of Chandler and Monica. She took the picture in both of her hands, tore it in half, and tossed it aside.

A shuffling was heard behind the closed door, and Judy tried to hide the liquor that was in her hands. Before she could toss it within the closet, Ross came into the room. He stopped his stride and merely looked at his mother, who stared back at him, guilty of the mess in Monica's room and the drunken haze that surrounded her. Ross eyebrows furrowed and a frown formed from his lips as he watched Judy place the bottle onto the floor and rise to her feet.

"Ma, what are you doing?" he asked quietly, now looking at the clutter of Monica's things.

His eyes fell upon a heap of objects that now lay torn in pieces. He walked over to the pile and knelt before it, rummaging through it and seeing that it was everything that confirmed Monica and Chandler's relationship. Each object lay in scattered fragments. Only Monica's journal to Chandler was left unharmed and propped beside Judy's feet.

"Just tidying up," she finally replied, walking over to Ross and shoving the torn possessions away from him. "When Monica wakes up, I except her to come to a nice, clean room." She smiled.

Ross glared at her smile, not in the least amused by her act. Yet his lips curled into a smile. "Oh, okay."

He stood from his knees, kissed his mother's cheek, and walked out the door.

* * *

Soaked from the storm that was now erupting violently outside, Chandler dragged his feet over the tiles of the hospital floor. When he reached the desk, the familiar nurse smiled at him. 

"Hello, Chandler. How are you today?" she greeted light-heartedly.

Normally, Chandler would have returned the smile and salutation. Today, however, he was so worn that he could only manage a slight nod. The water from his hair slowly dribbled to the sides of his head, and the moisture from his coat fell into a puddle that surrounded his feet. Deep shadows under his eyes were the proof of his increasing fatigue.

"May I please see Monica?" he asked tiredly, his voice showing little emotion.

The nurse, despite her smiles, shook her head solemnly. "Chandler, I told you the other day that it's family only – and Monica _does _have family."

Chandler's venom slowly began to seethe its way onto his expressionless face. "What? Well what about what I told _you_ about that insane mother of hers?" Chandler remarked, his voice now matching his angered face.

"You can't expect me to believe that her mother would kill her own _daughter_. You're distraught, dear. Your grief is consuming you, and you'd like to believe that only you should be able to be Monica's anchor. It's normal to think that everyone else is against you and her, especially under such circumstances…"

"Damnit, I'm not _hallucinating_!" Chandler suddenly burst, slamming his closed fist onto the desk. "That woman is _insane_. Not all of those marks were created by Joey Tribbianni – that woman wants nothing to do with the well being of her daughter!" His voice continuously elevated, making the nurse and the people around him increasingly nervous.

The nurse stood from her seat and walked over to Chandler, placing a hand on his shoulder. Chandler stepped back, making her hand fall to her sides. "Sweetheart, you're distressed. Please, just sit down in the waiting room. She _has_ been showing progress. Who knows, maybe she'll wake up soon."

"I don't need your pity, and I _don't_ need your condolences," Chandler spat. Chandler glared at the nurse, slowly shaking his head. "Don't pretend she's okay."

He tore his flaming eyes from her and began to walk heatedly over to Monica's room. Yet instead of entering the room, he dropped himself into a plastic chair that stood before it.

Burying his hands in his face, Chandler wept.

* * *

The haze began to thin, but the pain only intensified. Muffled sounds were audible to her ears, yet she could make sense of nothing. The darkness was becoming shades lighter. Her mind was swept with ideas of what was happening, yet none could be proven to her. 

Was she dying?

Suddenly, the increasing pain burst into an explosion of agony. Her mind screamed at her. Nothing but the pain that stifled her existence enfolded her mind, as she began to thrash her body aimlessly, trying to escape the suffering that befell upon her.

She was sure she was dying a slow, painful death.

* * *

Judy sat in the seat beside Monica's bed, a bottle of liquor in her hands yet again. She smiled sinisterly and splashed some of the liquid onto her daughter's face. She laughed when seeing that her daughter could do nothing to wipe her face. 

Why Judy came to see Monica for the second time in two days was unknown even to Judy herself. Part of her believed that it was because she found simple, pure satisfaction out of seeing her so helpless. The other part of her believed it was because, there, her anger could constantly be fueled.

"Everyone wishes Daddy were still alive, little Harmonica." She took a swig of the alcohol, her eyes never leaving the limp body of Monica. "I, on the other hand, wished I had never met him. Without him, there'd be no _you_." She placed the bottle onto her lips to scour more of the beverage that she held in her hand, but found it empty. She dropped it into the waste bin next to her. "Monica, what a troublemaker you are."

She stood from her seat and moved closer to Monica.

"Why couldn't you have been a good little girl and followed my example? Better yet, why couldn't Daddy just allow me to make my own decisions?" She inched towards Monica, her steps uneven. When she reached the bed, she put her face inches away from Monica's. She smiled once again. "Monica, you cannot blame your life on anybody but yourself."

She sneered and walked back to her chair. "Monica, if you just died now, your would put yourself and me through much less hassle." She leaned back in her chair, watching Monica with no loving passion that mother should have.

And as Monica opened her eyes slowly and painfully, Judy watched without bliss.

* * *

To be continued…

I would first like to thank all of you for reviewing – you guys truly make writing worthwhile :) Please review for this chapter… I need to know if people are continuing to enjoy this. And if you don't like it… tell me why not, please! Your constructive criticims only helps me improve :D


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